Untouchable
by The Hermione Granger Fan Club
Summary: Experience the stories of XME from the beginning: only this time, it's purely Rogue's story...
1. Prologue

Upon arriving home from school, the young girl was not met at the door of her house. She let herself in, short of breath. Although they were in the middle of a heat wave, she wore a black hooded jacket (hood perpetually up); miniature black boots toughened from wear; blue jeans and black gloves. Because of the extreme temperature, she had been permitted to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt under her jacket. It was dark blue.  
  
The front hall was wondrously bleak and cool after the pressure cooker of her elementary school. With a grateful sigh she removed her jacket and peeled off her gloves. Her hands were alarmingly white and sweaty after stewing for hours inside her gloves. The thumbs and forefingers were tagged with rings, each one a birthday gift. She unscrewed them from each digit and slipped them into her jeans pocket.  
  
Then her boots. House rules dictated that no shoes should be worn inside the home. In a shoe rack next to the front door were five pairs of shoes, all hers.   
  
Walking past her bedroom, she pulled off her jeans, balled them up and kicked them through the doorway. She ventured inside, kicking her jeans under the desk. She found a pair of loose shorts which she wore for decency (an important house rule) and yanked them on. She would only be allowed to dress in shorts for a few hours, until the only other member of her family arrived home.  
  
Passing the hall table (where four working telephones sat) and the door to the only other bedroom (which was always locked. Always), she entered the kitchen. She splashed her face, arms and neck with cold water from the tap. Then she filled a glass and stood in the centre of the kitchen, drinking thirstily.  
  
Thank God it was Wednesday. The girl only attended school three days a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays were given over to work. It was only a few years ago it had started to be called 'work' rather than 'private lessons', so she figured she must be getting very good. For hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays she trained- kickboxing, gymnastics and martial arts. Upon moving to this house, the entire basement (and it was a huge one) had been converted into a training area specially equipped for her work.  
  
She never expected to laze around cramming for tests or watching daytime TV on working days. She had to get all her homework finished beforehand and Heaven help her if it wasn't. Yet another house rule- while working, she had to keep on top of her schoolwork. And television? That was for her free time that she got each day, after homework and before dinner. She had just enough time to watch two shows per day. _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ (which she'd been watching for about a year and a half at her young age) and _Daria,_ which was a new one.  
  
She didn't read in her free time. She read before bedtime each night, to help her dream. She read at weekends for something to do. And early in the morning, long before breakfast, she might open a book. It helped her get through the day.  
  
... Which reminded her. Homework time.  
  
She spread out her homework on the kitchen table. She felt safer in the kitchen when she was at home. It was bigger. You could see if anyone was coming down either of the halls and it was only a short sprint to the back door. Even though it was still daylight, she went through the whole house, turning on every light. Returning to the kitchen, she poured herself some milk and tipped up a packet of cookies onto a plate. Her favourite food. Then she sat and did her homework, and by the time it was done she still had a few cookies to spare.  
  
Hmm. She was still alone in the house. She wondered where her mother was, she was normally home by now.  
  
Reluctantly, she retired to the laundry room. Opening the cleaning closet she unveiled the TV set. Again, it was house rules (and snobbery on her mother's part, she privately thought) that said the TV should be kept inside a closet when not in use. She procured a chair and sat in it cross-legged, tuning in just as the _Daria_ theme song began to play.  
  
It grew dark at the end of _Angel_ (which she only ever watched when her mother was late home). The temperature dropped, but mosquitos still found their way into the house, and she slapped them away angrily. Where was she? Was it fair to leave her alone like this? Who else would she talk to if not for her mother?  
  
When she was moody, she didn't eat. So she didn't heat herself up anything to eat even though she was perfectly capable of doing it. She considered having a shower or perhaps getting in some practice for work tomorrow, but the fact was she didn't feel like locking herself away in any one room in an empty house. Even one with all the lights on.  
  
She went to check that the back door was locked again and leaned against it, looking out through the glass into the small courtyard. There was a hidden gate that led out to the backalley, just one of the secret escape routes in the house.  
  
There was a crash.  
  
She started and looked back in horror at the corridor that led right the way through the house, from front door to back. She could dimly see the front door swinging wide open.  
  
It hadn't been locked. She hadn't locked the front door. What kind of total imbecile didn't lock the front door?  
  
Frantically, she made her way to the kitchen and hauled open the cutlery drawer, removing a large knife. Now armed, she started to move to the front door. Her back was pressed against the wall.  
  
A loud creak emanated out of the hallway behind her and as she looked to see where it had come from, all the lights went out. "Oh, God- if there's someone there," she fearfully called out, "you'd do well to leave right now. My mother'll be home soon and anyway, Ah'm armed."  
  
... Her shallow breathing seemed unpleasantly amplified in this darkness.She gulped and her toes curled. "GET OUTTA MAH HOUSE!" she shrieked. The silence echoed endlessly.  
  
Finally, the warning bells in her head stopped ringing. With a long sigh, she went to lock the front door.  
  
She went flying as someone stuck their foot through her bedroom door and tripped her up. The girl was relieved, in a way- at least now she knew what to expect. Unfazed as the intruder exited, she lunged from her position on the floor to stab them in the ankle.  
  
Smoothly, the burglar kicked her knife right out of her hand, and as she nursed her hurt fingers she stared in horror at the bright blade of the knife flashing way out of her reach. Reduced to what she truly was- a scared child- she opened her mouth and screamed.  
  
Nothing recognisable, at first. But it turned into words- "No! No, no, no, no!" She curled into a ball on the floor and prepared herself to die.  
  
The intruder laughed. Tossing back his head, he- he...  
  
Shifted. From navel upwards, and from navel downwards, her mother shapeshifted back to her usual form- that of a blue-skinned woman with red hair and slight fangs. She never questioned this ability, it was just something her mother could do. A trick she was always playing.  
  
Nodding curtly, she said the girl's name in greeting. "Rogue..."  
  
Rogue looked up at her mother's statuesque frame. The urgency and fear in her eyes stilled and disappeared, and in a halted voice said, "Raven."  
  
"Rogue, you may be very young but it's no excuse for leaving the front door unlocked."  
  
Scowling, the girl retorted, "Raven, you may be mah mother and teacher but that's no excuse for scarin' the crap outta me for no good reason." One of Raven's favourite 'lessons' was to sneak into the house through an unlocked door or window in the guise of a thief or murderer. She hadn't done it in about a year.  
  
"I had plenty of reason. Despite all your better judgement, you left the front door open and you left yourself vulnerable to outside attack."  
  
"Ah forgot, OK? Stop bossin' me around, woman." Rogue tried to push past her mother into her bedroom.  
  
"You address me as Raven or ma'am. Or have you forgotten that too?"  
  
Rogue glared and finally said. "It was stinkin' hot today and Ah didn't wanna go to school, but you made me." She ducked neatly under Raven's arm and darted into her bedroom, nearly slamming the door on her mother's fingers.  
  
"I wasn't expecting this kind of rebellion for a few more years, Rogue." Raven yelled through the keyhole. She left Rogue alone to cool off...  
  
About forty-five minutes later, Rogue was curled up on her bed reading a magazine. She'd changed into her pyjamas. She sat right up as a fly buzzed under the door. "Ain't foolin' me, Raven," she said softly, and without blinking she lobbed a book at the fly.  
  
The fly buzzed in alarm and disappeared to the foot of Rogue's bed, where it shifted back into the form of her adoptive mother. "Ta-da," deadpanned Raven, flicking back her hair and casting a critical eye over the girl's room.  
  
Pictures of vampires, gothic rock singers and creepy mountain ranges were tacked up on the drab walls, alongside postcards from all the places they had visited in the time they had lived together- some in Europe, most in America. There was a closet with only a few articles of clothing hanging up- the rest were either packed away into boxes or strewn all over the floor. The black curtains at the barred window were drawn.  
  
To make peace, Raven made her way over to the desk and upon finding a lighter imamongst all the junk, lit each of the candles that were there. Then she tossed the lighter to Rogue, who smirked and lit the candles beside her bed and on the windowsill. Rogue preferred candles to electric lights.  
  
As Rogue lit candles, Raven picked up a grey t-shirt with a black flaming skull emblem on the front. "I shouldn't let you buy decorated t-shirts," mused Raven. "They attract too much attention- especially this particular motif, on a girl your age."  
  
"Ah like it."  
  
"Just don't buy anything with a swastika on it or we'll both be in it deep, Rogue," smirked Raven, taking a look at the nametag sewn inside the neck. It said DARKHOLME in black letters and underneath was a telephone number.  
  
"Deal."  
  
"How was school?" asked Raven somewhat maternally, sitting down on a box full of clothes. She let Rogue buy all her own clothes, putting money into her childish hands and simply following her about while Rogue silently selected whatever she needed, but would often buy her shirts or shoes as peace offerings. Also, if they had to leave a place in a hurry there often wasn't time to pack much in the way of clothes, so Rogue had already lost many hundreds of articles of clothing.  
  
"That prison!" said Rogue scornfully. "The sooner Ah graduate, the better."  
  
When Rogue had been adopted by Raven, she had taken her surname- Darkholme, obviously. A long time ago she had used to be called something else, but Raven had legally changed her name to Rogue when she was five. What had started out as a kind of codename had eventually become her actual name. It hadn't been easy, but by the time she was six the girl answered only to Rogue Darkholme.  
  
"You might have to wait awhile. So have you made any friends among the other children? Any of the girls, the boys?"  
  
"Nope. Besides, Ah hate boys. 'Specially boys who wear glasses an' sit at the front of the class. Same with the girls."  
  
Raven smirked. "Perfect." She didn't bother keeping it quiet that she didn't wish for Rogue to make friends. Rogue had been taught to regard other children with contempt, suspicion, even hatred and fear. "But you are all right at school? The children aren't teasing you at all?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'll go and fix you some dinner." Raven stood up to leave.  
  
"Ah can do it mahself."  
  
"Fine. YOU go and fix you some dinner."  
  
"Ah don't want to."  
  
Raven knew better than to push it. "Rogue, I'm sorry I startled you."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You're excused," sneered Raven.  
  
"Somethin' weird's goin' on. You've asked me how school was, offered to fix me dinner and apologised for scarin' me in the space of a few minutes. Somethin' is definitely up."  
  
"I can't pull the wool over your eyes, can I?"  
  
"No. Now spill, why are ya being so nice t'me?"  
  
Raven took a deep breath. Completely straight-faced, she asked, "Rogue, how would you like to come with me and visit one of my friends in Caldecot County for a day or two?"  
  
"Ya mean it? Ya really wanna take me with you?" Rogue frowned. This was very odd.  
  
"Yes." Raven stood up and came to sit next to her daughter, putting a careful arm around her shoulders. "I really would like you to meet my good friend. It would be an honour."  
  
Rogue giggled. "Raven, you don't have any friends."  
  
"Charming," said Raven sarcastically, giving Rogue's hair a tug. Rogue giggled with her hand over her mouth.  
  
"This ain't a business trip, is it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What's your friend's name?"  
  
"Irene. Irene Adler. Out of everyone I know, I trust her the most."  
  
"Apart from me," Rogue reminded her.  
  
"Of course. You're my kin, my only child. I trust you with my life."  
  
"And if this WAS a business trip, Ah'd be fully informed, right?"  
  
"Right. This is purely for pleasure."  
  
"Ah can't remember the last time we took a real vacation, Raven."  
  
"It'll be a short one," said Raven hastily. In an odd voice, she said, "You'll only need to pack a few pieces of clothing."  
  
"OK. When are we leaving?"  
  
"Tomorrow."  
  
Rogue's eyes widened. "Wow. Ya'll don't let the grass grow under your feet, do ya?"  
  
"Where's the fun in that?"  
  
Rogue nodded. Gruffly, she said, "You're a good mother, Raven. Ah'm sorry Ah overreacted like that."  
  
"I can see I've trained you well. You very nearly stabbed me in the leg."  
  
"Ah was aimin' for your ankle."  
  
Raven didn't seem to be listening. "Raven?" asked Rogue. "Somethin' wrong?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing. ...Rogue?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Raven tightened her arm around her child's shoulders. "When you are grown up, Rogue, you will be so vital to me and to what I do. My organisation's founder can barely wait to meet you in person, because he knows how well you are doing with your training."  
  
"Work," corrected Rogue, yawning.  
  
"Of course, Rogue. Your very, very important work." She did something she practically never did, and stroked Rogue's long hair. Then Raven got up to leave.  
  
"... Mother?" called Rogue softly, almost hoping Raven wouldn't hear her. Least of all because it was only when she felt very warmly towards her parent that she actually called her 'Mother'.  
  
Raven turned, a little surprised. She said nothing.  
  
"Ah'm important and vital now, right? Like, even though Ah can't help you with your work?"  
  
Silence. Then- "Completely important and vital. I chose you because of your special gifts and qualities. You'll save the world one day, Rogue. Save it for... people like us." The door closed.  
  
Rogue lay back, blissful in the thought that her mother must love her even though she couldn't help her yet.  
  
Which brought on the nagging question. Would Raven care about her even if Rogue couldn't help her at all?  
  
... Rogue didn't want to think about it. She fell asleep.  
  
The next afternoon, around six PM, Rogue shouldered the small backpack she'd been told to pack for the trip. Raven had advised her not to bring any of her belongings except her clothes and toiletries. "We'll take you out shopping when we get to Irene's house, mmm? Get you some treats."  
  
"Yeah. Ah need incentive, anyway, to be cooped up with old ladies all day long."  
  
"Watch your back when you talk like that, Rogue," said Raven in mock irritation. She went to hit her child up the back of the head.  
  
To her surprise, Rogue caught her hand split seconds before it connected with her head. "Watch your own back," smirked Rogue, poking Raven hard in the side. Raven nodded in approval and went outside to start the car, shifting as she walked through the front door.  
  
Rogue looked around the dark, elegant house she'd lived in almost a year. She looked forward to having her eleventh birthday there. Rogue smiled and jumped as she heard Raven start beeping the horn from outside.  
  
"Yeah, Ah'm comin'!" yelled Rogue, and left what she sarcastically called Darkholme Manor without a backwards glance.  
  
... It was night when Raven's car pulled up outside Irene Adler's house. Irene sat on the front porch and hearing the car arrive, she made her way down the front steps with the help of her walking stick. She wound up standing a short distance from Raven.  
  
"Raven. How are you?" Irene touched Raven's arm to check she was really there.  
  
"I'm fine," said Raven.  
  
"It's been so long..."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry to intrude."  
  
"No, it's no inconvenience to me. Don't even worry about it." Irene hesitated. "Do you have the girl?"  
  
"Mmm. She's asleep in the backseat."  
  
"What should I call her?"  
  
"Rogue. It's her name, after all."  
  
Rogue was awakened by the sound of the door opening and Raven pulling her into a sitting position. "Rogue, wake up. We're here."  
  
Rogue rubbed at her eyes as Raven helped her out of the car. "M-Mother?" she murmured.  
  
Raven winced and released Rogue's elbow from her grip. "This is Irene Adler, Rogue. Shake hands nicely and say hello."  
  
"There's no need for formalities." Irene smiled. "Let's go inside. The guest room's been made up for you, Rogue."  
  
Crickets chirped in the bushes as Rogue was left to take in their bags. Raven had one- a very small one because she didn't need to take any clothes- and Rogue had her backpack. Rogue picked up both (she was strong for her age) and wandered inside. After she'd put Raven's bag in the living room she left the women to their conversation in the kitchen and with only a little bit of exploring found what was to be her room for the time they were staying with Irene.  
  
It was small and tidy and didn't smell like anything in particular. The carpet was thin and grey and the walls were white. The single bed in the corner was made up with new white sheets and had a new black blanket decorated with white stars folded at its far end. There was a closet, a side table beside the bed with a lamp on it, a desk with a chair and a small bookshelf.  
  
"See ya in the morning," she bellowed, changing into her nightclothes and crawling into bed.  
  
After a quick breakfast the next morning Raven (having turned into a woman who could have been Rogue's grandmother- she usually took a female shape when she was taking her daughter out) took Rogue shopping at the local mall. Not only for clothes, but for shoes and books and posters and new schoolthings. Rogue normally enjoyed being taken out and spoilt rotten. Raven often bought her the odd thing just to keep her going, a pair of jeans and a paperback novel if she was really in a good mood. But often if Rogue came along on a shopping trip Raven would show a vicious kind of pleasure out of buying things for her child. But she simply stamped grimly around flourishing credit cards at Rogue's whim.  
  
"Thanks for takin' me shopping, Raven," said Rogue sincerely as Raven drove them back to Irene's.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Ah said thank you for takin' me out today."  
  
Raven let out a long breath. "Rogue, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you with Irene for a day or two."  
  
Rogue froze. "Ah knew it. Ah should've guessed when you bought me all that stuff," said Rogue flatly, gesturing to the sea of shopping bags in the backseat.  
  
"Rogue-"  
  
"You said we were here on vacation."  
  
"I know, I did say that and I want for us to be able to enjoy each other's company-"  
  
"Fat chance."  
  
Raven inhaled sharply. "Fine. Whatever."  
  
When they arrived home Raven and Irene holed up in the living room for ages while Rogue boredly looked over all her new things. She frowned when Irene called, "Rogue!"  
  
Rogue left her bedroom and found the living room door still shut tightly. It stayed shut for a few minutes more until Raven came to open it.  
  
"We're ready for you now, Rogue," said Raven softly. As Rogue entered the room, Raven placed a hand on her shoulder. Rogue flinched it off in a second- partly because she was unused to being touched, and partly because she was getting a weird vibe from her adoptive mother. It made her feel hostile.  
  
The furniture had been pushed up against the walls. Three chairs were left in the open space- two on the sidelines, one in the middle. Irene occupied one of the side chairs. Hearing Rogue enter the room, she smiled in encouragement.  
  
Someone else stood there. A short, unkempt man fiddling with the folds of his clothes. Rogue disliked him already. Not being one to mince words, she asked, "Who the hell is this?"  
  
"This is Mr Wyngarde," said Raven in a guarded voice. She glared at Mr Wyngarde, who said nothing.  
  
"Hel-" Rogue said grudgingly, but stopped. Raven wasn't even bothering to tell Rogue to say hello. She directed her to the chair and motioned that she should sit down. Rogue sat tensely, her knees together, her fists balanced precariously on them.  
  
Irene spoke. "We need you to sit very still and try not to move, Rogue."  
  
"Ah go on record as not liking this," Rogue said in an undertone she knew each of the adults could hear.  
  
The tapping of Irene's stick. "Rogue, honey. This is just something to make the separation from y- from Raven easier."  
  
She stared up at them. The three grown-ups were crowding her in. She had a weird feeling about this... "Fine."  
  
"That's a girl," said Irene, patting Rogue on the shoulder. She watched as the women took seats and frowned as Irene found Raven's hand and laced their fingers together. Displays of affection between adults were alien to her.  
  
"Close your eyes and relax." He spoke roughly. Wyngarde stepped forward. He placed his scruffy hands on either side of her head, pushing his fingers up through her hair.  
  
Rogue felt a thrill of apprehension that she couldn't explain. She shied away slightly, but he kept his grip. "What are you-"  
  
Pain exploded from her temples. There was nothing fine or precise about this procedure. She tried to bear it, tried to rationalise it but she was a child and the only thing she could register was that it hurt. Her eyes snapped open and she shrieked in agony, twisting in her seat and trying to escape.  
  
He kept his grip on her. A Rogue nobody could see, the Rogue inside her narrowed her eyes and with all the strength in her mind she tried to throw him off.  
  
Not literally, of course. He might not have looked it, but he was a lot stronger than she was physically. And she didn't even succeed to mentally throw him off, because once again he was stronger. But Rogue gave Mastermind one hell of a shock as he discovered a ten-year-old ALMOST able to take him on.  
  
Gasping in pain, Rogue kicked out at him and felt her foot stop in midair. Her hands jarred as they clung fruitlessly to the sides of the chair, which she almost tipped over as her feet drummed on the floor.  
  
The effort in trying, body and mind, to push him away exhausted and even further injured Rogue. She couldn't keep at it and simply wailed in pain.  
  
A sudden shout. "Stop it. Stop it! Wyngarde, you're hurting her! Leave her alone!" A clatter of someone actually tipping over their chair, and Raven roughly shoved Wyngarde out of the way. Rogue cried in pain and Raven put her arms around her.  
  
"Raven," bawled Rogue. Raven hugged her, murmuring.  
  
Wyngarde was breathing heavily from where he lay, sprawled on the ground. "You're a fool, Mystique."  
  
Raven glowered. "Fuck you, Wyngarde." She looked at Irene. "I'm not doing this any more."  
  
Irene said sadly, "Raven, it's not your place."  
  
"The hell it's not!" barked Raven. "I'm not putting her through this."  
  
"You never meant to go through with this," Wyngarde seethed, standing up. "It's been a wasted journey for me, Destiny. She's taught the girl psychic defence of some kind."  
  
Raven had managed to regain her composure remarkably quickly. "I did no such thing. The only thing of the kind Rogue knows is self-hypnosis, to block pain."  
  
"She's lying!" shouted Wyngarde.  
  
Rogue's eyes fluttered open and she frowned a little. Wyngarde had let something slip when he'd tried to force his way into her mind... something he shouldn't have...  
  
It was a lie! It had to be a lie... Raven wouldn't do something like that.  
  
No. She would.  
  
"YOU'RE lying!" she screamed suddenly, silencing the adults. She pushed Raven away and jumped up, stars whirling in her eyes. In her mother's eyes, in that moment... in a terrible sort of way, Rogue was magnificent.  
  
Raven said nothing.  
  
"You're leaving me here with Irene, aren't ya?" accused Rogue.  
  
"Yes," said Raven quietly.  
  
"You don't want me any more."  
  
Irene coughed. "Rogue, of course Raven-"  
  
"Stay out of this," snapped Raven to her friend before turning back to her daughter. "I didn't say that, Rogue."  
  
"But why?" asked Rogue weakly.  
  
"It has become an inconvenience for me to care for you and still work. The cause's leader thinks it's best for you to remain with Irene for a time."  
  
"Raven, Ah'm... Ah'm your daughter. Ah'm..." Rogue didn't dare suggest that she ought to come first.  
  
"You'll still be my daughter while you're living with Irene."  
  
"But Ah don't need Irene to look after me," muttered Rogue, eyes downcast. "Ah need you."  
  
"Mystique, Magneto has no use for the girl yet. Until her powers emerge she's a thorn in your side. You know that. Destiny and I know that. Even the girl knows it," mumbled Wyngarde.  
  
Raven whirled around. "Shut UP, Wyngarde. I understand. I'm trying to salvage the situation."  
  
"Thorn in ya side?" repeated Rogue softly. "Ah'm not... Ah'm- a thorn in your side?" No-one heard her. Nobody even tried to hear.  
  
Raven sighed loudly, biting at her lip. She massaged her temples for a few seconds before speaking. "This has gone far enough. Irene... we'd better leave Rogue alone with Mastermind."  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Irene anxiously.  
  
Rogue looked up, eyes full of fury.  
  
"Ah am not a thorn. Or a- a situation. Ah'm your kid. And Ah'm TIRED of you screwin' me over! Ah'm tired of you orderin' me around and you lecturin' me and your rules that don't make any sense! Ya said ya trusted me more than anyone else in the world. Were ya lyin' then too?" yelled Rogue.  
  
"Be quiet," said Raven coldly, hugging herself against Rogue's tirade.  
  
"You don't want me any more. You don't love me and you never will! You won't let me love you and Ah don't wanna try any more! Ah'm sick of you anyway Raven, you stupid psycho bitch! Ah hate you!"  
  
Flatly, Raven spoke. "You don't mean that." She stood up and moved toward Rogue.  
  
"Get away from me!" shrilled Rogue, pushing up her sleeve and holding out her skinny arm like a shield. "Ah mean it! Ah'll really do it!"  
  
"You'll do what? This?" snapped Raven, grabbing Rogue's arm roughly. Rogue's jaw dropped. Raven laughed nastily, but there were tears in her eyes. "Is that what you'll do, Rogue?"  
  
Rogue wrenched her arm free and glared up at her mother.  
  
"Don't look so shocked. I doubt you ever really believed the skin disease lie."  
  
"AH HATE YOU!" Rogue fled the room.   
  
Rogue couldn't believe what had just happened as she flung herself into her little room. She tried to slam the door three times but it kept swinging open forcefully, so she just crawled underneath the covers on her bed, curled into a ball and cried.  
  
Finally she emerged, sniffling. Rogue turned off the light and pulled off her trousers, lobbing them under the desk as she usually did. It was so hot and uncomfortable that night.  
  
Rogue couldn't believe such a thing could happen to her. She couldn't trust anyone, not even Raven. Raven, who was meant to love her no matter what. Raven, who was supposed to care for her. Raven, who didn't her any more.  
  
Nobody ever seemed to want Rogue. Not the kids at school, not the teachers, not even her own mother...  
  
"Rogue?"  
  
Rogue lay very still and pretended to be asleep.  
  
Raven stood in the doorway, letting out a whistling breath through her teeth. "Oh, Rogue."  
  
As she stepped through the door, she shapeshifted. Rogue couldn't be sure what into until Raven sat down on the side of her bed and Rogue, from under lowered eyelids, caught a glimpse.  
  
Raven's hair was auburn with white streaks like Rogue's, and her eyes grey-green. Her skin was pale and her form slight and lovely. She'd become a woman in her middling thirties. In all the years they had been together, they'd never looked more like mother and daughter. Seeing her face, in spite of herself, Rogue had to admit that even though she felt angry and betrayed, she'd never loved Raven more.  
  
She sat down on the bed, drumming her elegant fingers on the black bedspread. Then, clearing her throat, she spoke.  
  
"Rogue, you are very important to me. There is no reason to feel alone or afraid. You'll probably only be with Irene a year or so- and she is a good woman, she'll take excellent care of you. I wouldn't have chosen anyone else. She is a great friend of mine and for her, caring for you will be an honour and a privilege. It would be for anyone who truly understood our cause. I'm leaving money so you can continue with lessons- martial arts, I think. You'll only do kickboxing and gymnastics for another year at the most, we need you to concentrate on your studies."  
  
Finally, Rogue spoke. "Ah still don't want for you to leave me, Raven."  
  
"I know." Raven didn't seem surprised that Rogue was awake. She sighed. "You'll forget me, Rogue. I'm sorry it had to be this way. Remember as long as you can, you're still my daughter. You're still a Darkholme. But for awhile, I'll have to pretend I don't know you."  
  
Rogue turned over onto her back and stared at Raven- into the manufactured eyes Raven had made like Rogue's own. In a low voice so old and so young it chilled Raven, she said, "Don't do this. Ah don't want you to, and you don't want to either. Ah don't want you to pretend you don't know me. Ah don't want to stay here alone."  
  
Raven shut her eyes in frustration and stood up, her back to Rogue. Rogue sat right up, eyes wide in fear. Irene Adler and Jason Wyngarde stood in the doorway. "Raven," she whimpered.  
  
She knew in her heart they would come after her. Rogue cursed herself- she should have run for it, she should have gotten the hell out of the house while the adults were still conferring. Oh, no...  
  
Her mother turned around and came to sit beside her on the bed. She put her arms around Rogue as though she was much younger. "I need you to relax."  
  
"Mother..."  
  
As Wyngarde's eyes glowed unnaturally, Raven smoothed her child's messy, long hair. "Sleep and dream and relax, Rogue. One day you will realise who and what you truly are. You will be so important to many millions of people. When that day comes, I'll come back for you."  
  
Rogue suddenly felt very sleepy. She could barely keep her head up as Raven lay her down on the bed and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.  
  
"Don't do this..." she mumbled, her eyes closing.  
  
... Dimly, she heard Raven reach the door. "Why am I even bothering?" she heard Raven murmur to Irene in defeat. "After Mastermind's finished with her, she'll have no memory of me."  
  
"Precisely. Which is why you shouldn't worry yourself. She'll have no memory."  
  
No memory.  
  
No memory of any of it.  
  
No memory at all...  
  
Both Raven and Jason Wyngarde were gone long before Rogue awoke the next day. All of Rogue's old clothes had been disposed of. She even had a new toothbrush and hairbrush sitting on the table, waiting for her. The only thing from her old life that still remained was the t-shirt she'd slept in.  
  
Irene sat in her armchair, brooding on the position she had now found herself in. She heard movement in the doorway and looked up.  
  
"Rogue? Are you there, honey?"  
  
"Ah- um, Ah think..." stammered Rogue, hugging something grey to her chest. She was fully dressed.  
  
"Call me Irene. What's wrong?"  
  
"Ah think somethin' bad happened yesterday," said Rogue tearfully, looking down at the t-shirt in her arms. "But Ah can't remember right. It keeps gettin' mixed up in mah head." She burst into tears.  
  
"Oh, Rogue. Come here." Irene opened her arms to the girl. All of Rogue's insecurities disappeared and as if it were the most normal thing in the world she seemed to wade into Irene's arms. She dropped the t-shirt on the floor and as the blind woman held the sobbing child Irene surreptitiously kicked the t-shirt away.  
  
In the midday light the nametag at the neck seemed to glow. It had been the word therein- the word DARKHOLME- which had set Rogue off crying. She felt so relieved at being hugged and comforted she forgot all about it, and concentrated on the arms holding her as she cried.  
  
-----  
  
DISCLAIMER: None of the X-Men belong to me. If they did, I would have pre-Morlock Evan, Pyro and Pietro die in tragic (snort) accidents, pair up Rogue and Gambit IMMEDIATELY, get Scott and Jean to just frickin' hold hands or something for a few seconds because their 'We love each other, we're just too shy to show it' is getting annoying, pair up Rahne and Roberto, pair up Bobby and Jubes, make an X-Men Evolution movie... Uh, anyway, I am a sad individual who, despite being in her teens, feels that Rogue is a Tragic Heroine on a par with Anna Karenina or ladies from Dickens. : ) All this belongs to WB, Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, whoever you like. 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and 'Angel' belong to Joss Whedon, and 'Daria' belongs to MTV. Swastikas belong to Hitler, the bloody bastard...  
  
NOTES: Here it is- my very first big 'X-Men: Evolution' project. Like the prologue? It's gone through loads of changes. First I was only going to write Seasons One and Two, then only Season One, then maybe the first three seasons. But I am going to try to do what I don't think has been done too many times before. I am going to write the entire series from Rogue's point of view.  
  
And have fun doing it. SMIRK  
  
Let me say right now that Rogue's opinions do not necessarily match my own. Some characters she's going to be rather dismissive of (read: Tabitha, Bobby, Scott sometimes, Jean CONSTANTLY, Kitty periodically, Roberto occasionally, Ororo whenever the opportunity arises, the Prof etc), whereas I pretty much like every single Evo character except for the following: Pyro (bloody pseudo-Aussie bastard. My friend and I have hated him ever since his horrible line, "It's gawn deeown undah!" Dickhead. However, he can snowboard which is cool. And he does a good evil laugh.), pre-Morlock Evan (moo juice SNIGGER), Pietro (I don't know... I'm very scathing of guys who ponce around a lot like he does. However, he has some pretty damn good lines), Taryn (bloody ditz. If I was writing the show I would have killed her off SOOOOO many times by now) and Duncan (I SWEAR he dyes his hair. I don't think it's actually possible to have black eyebrows and naturally blonde hair, at least like his. And he looks about THIRTY-FIVE. Why does Jean go out with him anyway? I'm glad they never showed them kissing, otherwise I would have had a powerful urge to scream, "CRADLESNATCHERRRRRR!!").  
  
Rogue's accent- let's face it, I can't imagine Evo!Rogue without her accent. But there IS a reason for it, and all will be revealed. And sorry for being so nauseatingly specific about Rogue's attire. I love Rogue's style in the series. I always want to steal her outfits. Basically, from a very young age Rogue's been trusted by Raven to buy her own clothes and let's face it- she's not exactly a happy kid, the kind you'd see in flowers and sparkles and pink. Neither is she a happy teenager, and she obviously buys her own clothes then too. So there was the idea: what does mini-Rogue wear? Although maybe the flaming skull t-shirt was going just a teeny bit over the top.  
  
("Just a teeny bit?" the reader say incredulously)  
  
I love Mystique too. She's definitely my favourite villain. I think she does love her children a lot... in an extremely twisted way.  
  
I've never seen BtVS or _Angel,_ but people on this message board I post at seem to think that Rogue would watch that show. I have seen _Daria_ though. I love _Daria,_ it's the best. As I write this, my favourite cartoons are _X-Men: Evolution, X-Men: The Animated Series, Johnny Bravo, Daria _and _Teen Titans._  
  
Now, what did Mastermind do to weeny Rogue, you ask? Basically the same thing he did to Wanda in _The Toad, the Witch and the Wardrobe_. Only in this prologue his powers aren't quite as sophisticated as they are in _Toad and Witch_. Instead of implanting false memories into Our Girl of the Sainted Streaks and Bad Attitude's head, he simply covered up all her memories of Raven with a truckload of psychological 'rubble' that make it very painful- you choose in what way- for Rogue to try and access those memories. Everything before her fostering to Irene Adler is a meaningless blur that by the next chapter, Rogue will have learnt not to think about.  
  
SONGS (These are songs that inspire me to write each individual chapter. 'Scuse me if you think my taste bites.)  
_As Heaven is Wide_ by Garbage  
_Dark Blue_ by No Doubt (always reminds me of Kurt and/or Mystique. Expect it a lot in this fic.) 


	2. Chapter One: Transformation

That would not be the last time Irene Adler would hold her foster daughter as she cried. A few times more over the years Rogue would let down her defences for Irene and tell her how her heart had been broken that day. For instance, the one or two times she'd completely embarrassed herself in front of boys she would have sold her soul for, or when teachers picked on her. She'd learned not to let such things get to her. Oddly when she looked back on crying on Irene's shoulder she didn't want to shoot herself from embarrassment quite so much.  
  
Over the years Rogue had been in Irene's care, they had formed a bond rather like that of a traditional mother and daughter. And Irene was cool for a foster mother- she could be extremely stupidly strict about things like homework or curfews, but she didn't make Rogue call her Mom or Aunt Irene or anything like that. So she should be able to ask her for one little favour, right?  
  
_Ask her already,_ she thought irritably. _It ain't like she's gonna hurl lightnin' bolts or somethin'._  
  
It had been a slow day in the life of Rogue, whose surname at school was Adler. At home she didn't have a surname. She didn't like the surname Adler. It sounded weird with her first name, anyway- too short, too plain for her erratic personality, like a bundle of tape clinging to a vial of some deadly drug.  
  
She'd gone to school by bus, as usual, daydreamed through each class, volunteered just enough intelligent answers to fool her teachers into thinking she cared, eaten a donut for lunch and noticed nothing. She had not looked upon the sky and found it wondrous, had not described her emotions to paper. She'd come straight home after school, made herself a plate of something or other, played her Korn CD and pinned up the frayed hem of one of her skirts.  
  
So, basically, for the last day in her life when things would be average for Rogue, it had been pretty boring and- well, ordinary.  
  
"'Lo, Rogue," said her foster mother evenly, nodding her head in time with the opera CD she liked to play sometimes.  
  
Man, it was freaky when she did that.  
  
"Hi, Irene," Rogue said quietly. "Um, Ah was thinkin' that instead of hanging around here all night, it might make a change if Ah went to this, um, dance that's goin' on down at mah school..."  
  
She trailed off; almost hoped Irene would try and talk her out of it. What would she do at a dance? What the hell was there to do except dance, or (she shuddered to think) TALK to those morons who populated her classes?  
  
Rogue was leaning against the doorframe with folded arms and made a sour face as Irene said loftily, "Don't you think that would be a little reckless, Rogue? After all, the condition- your skin-"  
  
Some adults worried about drink and drugs. Irene, she started worrying about Rogue's skin condition. It had a long Latin name. When Rogue had been diagnosed she had been told she was one of about three people in the USA who had the condition. Like it was something to be proud of.  
  
Irene, blind, face beginning to show lines of age, dignified in her armchair, was all for Rogue sticking around at home. Not to keep Irene company, just to keep Rogue isolated. Rogue was nearly sixteen and called no-one her friend.  
  
But even with the worrying, Irene was an all right mother. Rogue didn't exactly love her, somehow couldn't allow herself to love her, but she did her best. She was Rogue's only companion.  
  
"Ah swear Ah won't go near anybody, Irene! And Ah'll cover up from neck to toe. Please? Just this once?" Rogue straightened up and put her hands on her hips.  
  
Irene seemed to be suffering an intense internal battle. She bit her lip and finally managed to smile. "I suppose just this once wouldn't hurt."  
  
Rogue wasn't overly happy over this. Rogue nodded her head and murmured, "Thanks a bunch."  
  
"When does it start?"  
  
"Uh, in an hour or so. Ah think."  
  
"And when are you going to be home?"  
  
"Ah should think... um... nine?"  
  
"All right. Do you need any money to get there and back?"  
  
Rogue didn't say anything.  
  
"Take what you need out of my purse. Do you have something nice to wear?"  
  
Rogue had been turning on her heel to go. She paused and looked uncertainly down at her clothes, the ones she always wore around the house. Tight black shirt (no sleeves- oh, how rebellious she was in private), long black trousers, dark green socks. She'd just been hanging out in her room, after all, there was no reason to cover up.  
  
People at school named her with the goths, but she didn't hang around them. Or anyone else. She had decidedly Gothic habits, though- she had a pile of Anne Rice novels beside her bed, and her favourite ever book was Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. She'd read some tame kiddie version when she was practically in diapers and only a year or two ago had decided to give the real thing a try.   
  
...Though she wouldn't go to the library or anything. She was very proud of the fact that she'd never owned a library card.  
  
People didn't even know her name. If they had to reference her in some way, she was That Girl Who Wears Dark Clothes. Rogue found this annoying- she just dressed the way she felt, what was wrong with that?  
  
She was a loner through and through- she hadn't gotten a letter from anyone in years, never called kids from school, never went around town with anyone. Hey, if she couldn't ever be like them then why should she try and kid herself?  
  
"Um, yeah. Ah might put some, uh, wrist things on though." Studded bands on her wrists might look OK, and she had a choker with identical studs.  
  
But it wasn't like she had anyone to show them to.  
  
"Good. Lock the door on your way out, won't you?" asked Irene.  
  
"Yes, Irene," said Rogue meekly.  
  
A pause. "Have fun, Rogue."  
  
"Yeah. Mmm."  
  
Rogue went to her room and carefully looked through her clothes. She produced some black tights (without ladders), one of her five black skirts, black boots and a filmy green top. All these went on. Rogue couldn't be bothered to change her shirt; besides, it looked pretty good underneath the see-through top, she thought. She brushed her hair, made a mental note to trim it when she got the time, tried tying it back, hated the way it looked tied back, tried a different parting, decided she'd liked it the way it was and brushed it again, but impatiently.  
  
All right. Wristbands and choker- these went on first because they were fiddly to do up if you were wearing gloves, like Rogue had to wear all the time. She selected black gloves and pulled these onto her hands.  
  
When she'd been a kid, Rogue had dressed in long sleeves. She'd slathered on sunscreen at all times of the year, rubbed all kinds of stuff into her skin so it would become less lethal. All the staff at her schools had been warned never to touch her skin unless it was absolutely necessary, and she'd kept her hair long so she could hide behind it. She'd never been encouraged to socialise with the other kids- she had even been encouraged not to.  
  
She had deadly skin. Toxic- Rogue didn't like that word, it was an ugly one but it served a purpose. She imagined poisons coursing through the delicate veins and arteries, a green hue, hissing and bubbling and waiting for her to slip up.  
  
Upon becoming a teenager, Rogue's general look had changed. She dressed the way she wanted, the way she felt, and cut her hair short. It felt better. It was strange hair because it was white in the front, around her face. It had been ever since she could remember, probably since she'd been born. People thought she dyed it that way, and she wasn't about to tell them otherwise.  
  
Hmm. Her face was looking a bit bare. Some of her makeup would fix that. She had a hundred different medicated makeups like a small army camping out on the table she used for a desk.  
  
A white face. That didn't take a lot- Rogue didn't get much sunshine holing up in the house, or else in shade of trees or awnings. Nice and white. Dark lipstick. Since it had dawned on her a few years ago that makeup could substitute sunscreen, she'd worked at learning to do it right and consequently had mastered the fine art of not getting lipstick on her teeth. Dark makeup underneath her eyes- lots of it. There, all ready to go.  
  
She slunk into the hall. The house was a dry, tidy place and every now and again a picture of Rogue made a sideboard or dresser its residence. Most were quite recent, a year or two old, and Rogue thought it odd for someone who couldn't see to have a home decorated with photographs- let alone photographs of someone who wasn't even a blood relative.  
  
Some were proper and posed, the subject gazing obstinately into your eyes. One Rogue secretly liked was one where she was twelve, astride a black horse. Rogue had enjoyed riding a few years previously- after all, she was allowed to touch horses- but she hadn't gone recently.  
  
In the photo, her hair was longer than it was now and pulled back. Her hair hadn't looked so bad pulled back when she was young. Twelve-year-old Rogue, hardly discernable (in her own opinion) from the present one save for some increase in height, was giving the photographer a slightly broader smirk than usual. This indicated that she had meant to give the camera the expected cheesy grin but hadn't been able to psych herself up quickly enough.  
  
The youngest Rogue picture in the whole household had never been framed. Rogue wasn't sure she was even meant to see it. She'd been rummaging through a drawer trying to find a stapler one afternoon when she'd come across some papers concerning her fostering- boring- and one seemingly ancient image of a small girl half-asleep in an uncomfortable-looking chair.  
  
She was Rogue, no doubt about it. Right down to the pale skin, greyish-green eyes (just visible under drooping eyelids) and tufts of white making a border for her features, shocking next to the auburn shade of the rest of her hair. In the picture she wore black trousers, white gloves and smart shoes with a white shirt and a grey jacket buttoned over the top. Her hair was already long.  
  
The photo was ripped, coarse with dust, had a massive crease that made tiny Rogue's leg bend unnaturally. On the back, in beautiful copperplate handwriting, were the words: _She will come to you when the time is right. My own hectic schedule of late has been taxing for her, but it is best if she remains where she is awhile longer._ There was a date too, meaning she had been five when the picture had been taken.  
  
Unlike the twelve-year-old likeness, Rogue wasn't sure whether she liked the photo. It was OK- she looked decently cute and all. But it made her feel strange that, like everyone else, she had an early childhood- but one that she found it incredibly hard to remember. She wondered who'd taken the snapshot. Her social worker, most likely.  
  
Humming along with the oh-so-familar strains of _Faust_ that drifted from the living room, Rogue took some money for the bus and her ticket in out of Irene's purse. Without hesitation she took a few more notes- she might as well treat herself to something on the way home.  
  
Rogue left. She caught the bus in (got quite an earbashing from some relic of a person re. the length of her skirt) and walked through the streets toward her school, careful to stay out of the dying sun in case it melted her makeup at all.  
  
Berridge High School was quite an old one, and small as high schools went. She saw girls rushing in to meet their partners, or the extra-smug ones who'd been picked up beforehand, and hesitated, wringing her hands like Irene did sometimes.  
  
_C'mon, have some guts. Most likely someone will spike the drinks and one of the basketball team'll end up pukin' everywhere- by comin', you can say that YOU were there as well,_ thought Rogue, and sneered as she walked inside.  
  
Someone from the student council was stamping hands at the door. She looked incredibly surprised to see Rogue- and no wonder, Rogue hadn't shown up to a single school function since she was a freshman and Irene had dragged her along (practically kicking and screaming) to a parent-teacher interview.  
  
"Oh! Hey, uh... Rouge?" asked the girl tentatively.  
  
Rogue immediately morphed from Timid Teenager to Pissed-Off Ice Queen. "Very funny. R-O-G-U-E. Geez, they're lettin' anyone onto the student council these days." Rogue gave her a vicious look that the jumpy student council member hadn't the bravery to return and stormed inside without getting her hand stamped.  
  
It was bright. Obscenely bright. Rogue shaded her eyes against the glare- she pictured herself shrinking away with a vampirical hiss Anne Rice would be proud of and sneered again. This was even more pathetic than she'd pictured it  
  
She wandered, found herself in a corner and watched.  
  
A half-hour snailed agonisingly past and still not one person had even waved at Rogue. Oh, they knew she was there. They glanced at her and commented in undertones; they began to move toward her, thought better of it and bounced erratically off to talk to their real friends; they sniggered at the excessive amounts of makeup she'd put on. But nobody bothered to say hello.  
  
Rogue thought longingly about how she could be at home, making up tunes on her guitar or rereading _The Vampire Lestat_ or brushing her hair or trying on all her clothes or walking around the neighbourhood in the dark... Ugh, the tedium was sky-high. The hand on the clock over the door indicated that another half-hour had gone by- it felt like a few years.  
  
"Ugh, what am Ah doin' here?" she said in disgust, and strode outside.  
  
She stood out there a long time, watching the action inside through the windows. It was much too bright in there for a soul-sucking, compassion-crushing creature like her, Rogue thought wryly. Bright and boiling with the body heat of a hundred dancing teenagers. Most people were laughing so much they went red in the face. Rogue touched her own cheekbone to check she wasn't any hotter than she strictly had to be.  
  
Then she turned around and saw that the sun was setting. Rogue wasn't the type to gawp at natural phenomena nightly, obsessively, but she had nothing better to look at so she watched it and felt coloured light recede from where it had been lighting up her face. Rogue stared dejectedly at the stream of cars that could be glimpsed over the trees by the athletics field, propping her chin in her hands. She felt lonely and angry and annoyed.  
  
And she hadn't a clue that would be the last sunset she'd ever see as a (for lack of a better word) normal person.   
  
Rogue sighed. She'd go home in a few minutes. This had been a pointless endeavour, and now she was short ten bucks. Stupid teenagers. Stupid world.  
  
Footsteps. She stiffened, prepared to snap curtly in case it was a couple seeking privacy but heard two male voices exchanging banter. Something about pod people.  
  
She smirked. If THEY were about to get physical at all they could damn well find someplace else. Let nobody ever accuse her of being accomodating.  
  
She tuned them out for a few seconds and then heard the clatter of one stumbling quite nearby. She turned around and, for some odd reason, the feeling of wanting to yell ebbed slightly.  
  
It was some guy in a Berridge High football jacket and a friend standing behind him. She recognised him vaguely from some class- Science, maybe- and said, very intelligently, "Huh?"  
  
She elaborated. "Can Ah help you?" Rogue said in the most polite voice she could muster.  
  
The blonde one wearing the football jacket blustered, "Uh, dance? Ah mean, would you like to? With me, that is. Together, uh..."  
  
His friend was nodding in the background. She gave him a rather pitying look and said, "Ah'm really just kinda hangin' out here and..." She trailed off. The boy was looking downcast.  
  
Who was she to be rejecting people? If she was going to do anything worthwhile that night it might it might as well be to dance with some boy for a few minutes.  
  
"Aw, hey, why not?" she said, her tone a good deal more warm, and the boy perked up immediately. Amused, Rogue firmly went on, "After all, where's the harm in one dance?"  
  
"What's y'name?" asked Rogue as she went inside with her prospective dance partner, who looked dazed for some reason, and his friend.  
  
The friend fielded that one. "Ah'm Ty, this is Cody. What's yours?"  
  
By this time they had re-entered the gym. Rogue didn't answer- Ty seemed to think she couldn't hear over the noise and didn't ask again.  
  
"Um, uh, Ah see ya around a lot but Ah never get the chance to talk to ya," said Cody sheepishly, as Ty moved away to ask some redhead to dance.  
  
"Maybe that friend of yours could clear a path for ya," said Rogue dryly.  
  
"Heh, heh. Yeah."  
  
Rogue realised too late that she couldn't dance. She tried her best for his sake. There were giggles and sneers as she jerked awkwardly to the music, but Cody seemed appreciative. He was smiling so much at her it looked like his face was going to snap.  
  
The song, called _Who Am I Now_, wasn't bad either. Rogue was starting to enjoy herself.  
  
_Look at me, Ah'm with a guy at the school dance,_ thought Rogue, laughing out loud. _Ah can be normal if Ah try._  
  
All in a second, she was knocked rather roughly to the ground, along with Cody. She hit her elbow against the floor and grimaced. The lights seemed to whirl and her skin prickled strangely.  
  
All over her body, her skin smarted. Just for a moment. It felt more poisonous in that second than it had in her whole life- like she was a stranger in her own body. A part of her wanted to scream a warning to the crowd not to touch her, and yet she was reaching her hand up towards Cody. He missed her gloved hand, grabbed her exposed wrist.  
  
There was pain. Although after that time an absorption of another human's abilities and memories would not be painful for Rogue- just unpleasant- in that first moment when she pulled someone right through their own skin and consumed them without wishing to, Rogue's wrist, and then her whole body began to sting.  
  
It stopped, and she screamed anyway because Cody was screaming, because... she felt so disoriented all of a sudden. Like she'd been turned upside-down and righted suddenly. She forgot what she was and had barely any sense of where she was: she was on the floor and yet she wasn't, and Rogue was falling and yet remaining stationary.The pain from falling on her elbow disappeared and then came back again, and she was scrambling to her feet...  
  
... looking down at herself lying on the floor. Blonde hair, Berridge football jacket. How could she be in two places at once? _Cody Robinson,_ she thought immediately. _Ah'm Cody Robinson._  
  
No, she was- she was Rogue. Rouge, Rogue? How did you spell that, anyway?  
  
Rogue. Wasn't she? Rogue had happy pictures in her head, more childhood memories than she knew she had. She couldn't let go of them, but they frightened her because they were alien to her.  
  
"Mah head... these images," she stuttered, staring wildly down at her comatose body. "What's happenin' to me? What am Ah? Who am Ah?"  
  
Ty, her friend, was stooping down to her body- the one that was on the floor- and shaking her. "Cody? Cody, what's wrong?"  
  
_Ah'm right here,_ she thought in eerie calm.  
  
Ty turned to her angrily. "What did ya do to him?" he demanded.  
  
Rogue- Cody? It was so hard to tell. She turned on her heel and bolted. Ty ran ahead and blocked her at the door.  
  
Why was he so angry? He was her friend. She had- lots of friends, but none would come to her aid, even though all of them were there.  
  
_Ah don't have any friends,_ thought Rogue desperately, charging towards him. This revelation brought on a burst of aggression. In this new form of Cody/Rogue, she flashed back to being on a football field and shoved Ty out of the way.  
  
She ran. She didn't care where she went at first, but it was like she'd forgotten the basics of walking, once she slowed down. She bumped into things, tripped over. The world spun around her and when she tried to run the way she had she got a bad stitch.  
  
Rogue remembered all kinds of people. One memory puzzled her- it was of arriving late to Science class and having the teacher make some crushing remark. Everyone laughed, and her eyes trailed to a girl sitting alone in the back corner, next to the window. She wasn't laughing. She didn't look especially sorry either. She was supporting her chin in one hand and staring out the window boredly.  
  
And she remembered feeling that she'd never appreciated how pretty that girl was, how her moody green eyes seemed brighter when they reflected the light, how icy-white her bangs were in contrast to the rest of her auburn hair and how she never dressed like any of the other girls.  
  
_Pretty?_ she thought suddenly. _That girl? Yeah, right. What was Ah thinking?_  
  
She touched her cheek thoughtfully, expecting to find it marred with stubble and stiffening when it proved quite the opposite to what she remembered. Frantically she traced the lines of her face.  
  
She was that girl. That girl, whose name was... Rogue, who lived with a blind lady named... I- something...  
  
That girl Rogue had stolen Cody's thoughts. Or maybe Cody was stuck in her body. This wasn't right. This body wasn't hers!  
  
Clutching her head, she gave a wild shriek and went careening into a wall. She gave her head quite a nasty knock and shook it slowly, staring around as though expecting to see the girl running guiltily off.  
  
She staggered on, feeling the ground dip slightly under her as she fell off the sidewalk. Again with a sudden sense of calm, she continued to run.  
  
And she was lit up cruelly.  
  
Too bright. Much too bright. It hurt her eyes. She sucked in a breath so hard it hurt.  
  
A car had swerved to miss her and hit a lamp post instead. People standing around gaped as she dithered uncertainly, unsure of where to go.  
  
"Hey, what are ya, nuts? Crazy kid!" barked the driver angrily, climbing out. Sick with alarm, she was already running.  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: None of the X-Men belong to me. I am only a slightly sad individual who, despite being in her teens, feels that Rogue is a Tragic Heroine on a par with Anna Karenina or all those ladies from Dickens. : ) All this belongs to WB, Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, whoever you like. _Dracula_ belongs to Bram Stoker (as does some book called _The Judge's House_... I oughta read that someday), Korn belong to themselves, _Faust_ probably belongs to some dead composer guy (or girl, this at least being the age of equality), _The Vampire Lestat_ belongs to Anne Rice and Anne Rice belongs to herself.  
  
NOTES: My take on the first... er... forty seconds of _Rogue Recruit_. Somehow, I think this fic will be very long. 


	3. Chapter Two: Terrible Power

A car had swerved to miss her and hit a lamp post instead. People standing around gaped as she dithered uncertainly, unsure of where to go.  
  
"Hey, what are ya, nuts? Crazy kid!" barked the driver angrily, climbing out. Sick with alarm, she was already running.  
  
She wound up in a street she didn't remember.  
  
... Yes. Yes, she did. She smiled in relief, finding it a little hard to breathe. Only a few more streets and she'd be home, where her parents could help her.  
  
She walked (albeit unsteadily) toward her house, and Rogue had never been so glad to see it in her life. It felt like she'd never seen how glorious her house was. It was an ordinary house, and yet it felt like she was seeing it for the first time.   
  
It felt... new. Was this really the way her house looked? There was a red car in the driveway, and as she gazed at the house she had a sudden recent memory of her dad.  
  
Yes. This was most definitely her house. Smiling happily, she looked eagerly through the glass panel on the front door. Where was the key? She remembered, reached up to get it and then let herself into her home.  
  
"Dad? Mom, where are ya?" she called, and then shook her head, shivering uncontrollably. Of course. They were going to Cody's little sister's ballet recital that night. She wasn't going because... uh, because...  
  
Because she and her sister had had a fight. She felt rather sorry about that- Rogue had never had a little sister before and she felt like it was an experience she rather wanted.  
  
Tottering up the stairs towards her room, she exhaled loudly. It would be OK. When her parents had sorted out this whole ugly mess, she'd apologise nicely to her sister because- that was the way things.. always worked out, in that house. Yep.  
  
She opened a door and found the room within covered in pop star posters and relics of a little-girlhood recently shirked. Nope, this wasn't her room, because she was... Cody.  
  
Right, Cody.  
  
She found her room and stumbled inside. She wanted to lie down and take a nap, or collect her thoughts, or something, but she found herself fascinated with the contents of the room. She picked up the pillow and hugged it briefly, she ran her hands over a couple of lonely-looking trophies on a shelf far too long for someone who'd only been wrestling a couple of years. She thumbed through a magazine without even looking at the pictures, she pawed through the desk.  
  
On a bookshelf were some yearbooks. She grabbed the latest one and started turning the pages, finding Cody's picture everywhere.  
  
It was... so perfect. She'd never thought of it that way before, but it was. Cody was incredibly lucky. He had lots of friends (including a best friend), parents, a younger sister, a nice house.  
  
"All this?" she whispered, having heard a car pull up outside. Maybe Cody's parents and sister were home! His parents, Sharon and Randall, and his sister... Abby? Allie? Ellie? Something that began with an vowel, anyway. "It's all mine?"  
  
She got up and moved toward the mirror, feeling a deep sense of despair. God, that sullen-looking girl Cody had a crush on was still there. She must be going crazy. Cody must have some obsessive crush if he was seeing her in the mirror! "But which me am Ah?"  
  
For her memories, the precious ones of a family and friends... were starting to drip away. Soon all that was left would be the girl, Rogue. She groaned.  
  
All these stupid imagined Rogue memories kept seeping into Cody's head... like shopping for clothes or standing alone in a corner in kindergarten, first grade, fifth grade, freshman year...  
  
They weren't real. They couldn't be real! In a vain effort to get them to stop, she knocked a cluster of pristine wrestling trophies off the vanity and heard them clatter to the floor. The noise didn't seem real either.  
  
There was a crash. Startled, she backed away from the door as a muscly male breathing heavily and baring sharper-than-normal teeth strode in.  
  
Was this Cody's dad? No, it was- someone-  
  
"Who- who are ya and what do ya want?"  
  
A fierce rumble burst from the man. "You, girlie! I want YOU!" he roared, and dived at her.  
  
He could have just been antagonising her, she realised later. Usually an attack ending where the attacked dodged out of the way and the attacker ended up in a closet would have made her laugh.  
  
She yelped and the man climbed out. "Stand still and I'll make it quick. You're dealin' with the X-Men now and y'ain't got a chance."  
  
Frantically, she snatched a board and held it up in what she hoped was a menacing manner. "X-Men? Ah don't understand, Ah just want ya to leave me alone!" She brought the board down on her aggressor and ran for her life.  
  
The man let out a howl that made Rogue's hair stand on end. It was like she'd been transported into one of her books that she liked to read.  
  
Her books?  
  
...Yeah. She was Rogue again, and this wasn't her house, and she didn't have any parents or sister coming home to rescue her... she didn't have anyone...  
  
She bumped into the back door, wrenched at the handle with Cody's strength and pushed it open. Her heart seemed lodged into her throat as she made her escape, dashed for the dark shape of the back fence.  
  
There was noise behind her. Rogue dared to look and saw that the man had gone, replaced by a tall woman in some weird skin-tight thing with a cape. She had blue eyes, dark skin and white hair that hung to her waist. The woman raised her own gloved hands and said in booming tones, "One well-placed lightening bolt, one ex-mutant!"  
  
Terrified, Rogue had begun to jump the wooden fence. She was reasonably athletic but had little practice at running for such a long time, and taking such self-imposed blows as these. She halted a split second because her foot was stuck-  
  
There was a small explosion and she was pitched over.  
  
Rogue had never seen anything explode except in Science class. Oh, she'd watched action movies where whole cities would explode of an evening, but she'd never- there was a sudden, violent burst of heat and a kind of shockwave that hit her like a sledgehammer.  
  
She hit the dirt, having landed in an alley between houses. In movies people always jumped up good as new after something had exploded, but she felt paralysed. Flashing back to the dance, she rolled a little and opened her eyes. For a second she saw bright lights and Cody reaching down to her, the first and last kid who'd ever offered her their hand.  
  
A voice. A female voice, speaking gently but with urgency. "Rogue, it's me, Irene. Try and remember."  
  
But she came crashing back to earth and saw a woman with dark glasses standing over her and looking concerned.  
  
What was SHE doing there? It was like a dream... some crazy dream... at any second the white-haired woman and the beastlike man would reappear, rip this Irene to shreds, start for her- she'd scream, then she'd wake up...  
  
"Uh, who? Wait- Irene, yes, but... Ah'm so confused. Strange thoughts in mah head," she said tearfully, and suddenly she flashed back to being chased by the man and woman. She nearly screamed at the memory. She wanted to hug Irene- not because she loved her or anything, but because she just needed to see someone she knew... "People chasing me..."  
  
"Easy, easy, honey. The police are coming. The X-Men will not risk a confrontation."  
  
"Th' X-Men?" echoed Rogue. It felt difficult to breathe. It was a struggle to exhale- she pictured suffocating fumes pressing in on her, smothering her. Suffocating fumes that made dark clouds around her, green poison pooling under her skin- there was nothing good or pure about Rogue.  
  
"Yes, mutant hunters," said Irene hurriedly. "Now hurry! I have a friend who can help you, I'll take you to her." She held out her hand to Rogue.  
  
Quaking, Rogue grasped Irene's hand. "Ah don't know, this all happenin' so fast, Ah don't-"  
  
She froze. The man who'd attacked her, accompanied by two smaller people, was racing toward the pair of them.  
  
She imagined how it would feel to have those metal claws that popped out his knuckles plunged into her stomach. Fear, like being ducked into an icy lake, washed over her and Rogue choked out, "It's him! The one that attacked me! Run, Irene, run!" She broke away, leaving her glove in her foster mother's grip.  
  
Rogue heard the man's voice. "Yeah, that's gotta be her!"  
  
She was going to be killed! Scarcely able to breathe, she clambered back over the fence. "PLEASE, just leave me be!" she wailed. Frankly, if it was between the woman and the man, she'd take her chances with the woman.  
  
But the woman wasn't there any more. Relieved, she started running again, her thoughts wheeling through her head. Whenever she hit a fence, she climbed over it to the next garden.  
  
Ah can't stop running, she thought grimly. If Ah stop, they'll get me.  
  
She stopped underneath a tree to breathe. She was drenched in a cold sweat and so terrified she couldn't see.  
  
Mutant hunters? She didn't understand. They'd done mutant genes in Science class. Was the thing that had happened- were Cody's thoughts in Rogue's body the result of a mutation?  
  
She remembered the story she'd stumbled across on a search engine of a Russian girl with x-ray vision, or one who cried acid tears. But she couldn't BE one? Her? No, this happened to normal people, people who had everything to lose- not to people who were already shunned...  
  
God, she felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. If one more weird thing happened she would die.  
  
"Guten tag, fraulein," said a pleasant male voice.  
  
Rogue gasped. A teenage boy with longish dark hair was sitting on the tree swing, smiling impishly. It had been empty one moment and suddenly- oh, no-  
  
_Not another one!_ she thought numbly. Yet he didn't seem dangerous...  
  
"Please don't be frightened," implored the boy in a German accent.  
  
Rogue had seen and felt so many awful things that night it hardly startled her when the boy disappeared from the swing and reappeared at her side in the space of half a second.  
  
"W-What do ya want?" she asked.  
  
"To help you. We're the good guys, especially me!" He grinned, but Rogue found nothing to laugh at.  
  
"Ah don't understand!" said Rogue angrily, and then her voice softened as she tried not to sob. "Ah don't understand anythin', all this awful stuff's been happenin' and- and Ah-"  
  
"I was like you once," the boy said easily, pacing a circle around her. "Alone, unsure of what I was, afraid to show my face." He groomed himself absent-mindedly and then said incredulously, "Can you believe it?"  
  
Rogue almost managed to giggle.  
  
The boy opened his mouth to say something more and shut it, frowning at something over Rogue's shoulder. Then his eyes widened. "Kitty, no!" he shouted in alarm.  
  
Rogue was tackled from behind and fell face first onto the ground. Even though she knew that it wasn't anyone really strong she freaked out. She reacted instantaneously, throwing her opponent off and preparing to run off again.  
  
The boy grabbed her. Rogue shoved him hard, slamming her fist onto one of his wrists.  
  
He disappeared. There was a strange pixellated flicker before his face and it was demonic all of a sudden, with the eyes turning yellow, the canine teeth becoming fangs and the face swathed in indigo fur. Rogue heard a tail beat at the dirt in surprise.  
  
Rogue seemed physically unable to draw a breath, staring in shock at the- whatever it was. The boy who'd seemed friendly- he was a monster! And he was after her the same way all the others were- she was going to be killed.  
  
She reached out for his face that time, to harm, to hurt, to defend herself. When her fingers connected with his face there was the sudden, strange feeling of being in two places at once, and then- she was gone.  
  
In the same way he had moved from the swing to her side in half a second, Rogue disappeared. Somehow, she came to be in the darkness of the nearby cemetary.  
  
Rogue's head was flooded with memories- being picked up and hugged by a mother as a child, a plane and then a train trip to a place where people would help with something, some girl named Jean... Great? Grey, that was it. Some girl named Jean Grey saying empathetically, "Aw, she just needs time, Kurt. She'll come around." about somebody whose name was Kitty Pryde.  
  
Kitty Pryde. That name was very definite. It was an important name.  
  
Kurt. Kurt Wagner, who would be sixteen in a few months, the adopted son of Heide and Deiter Wagner. They were good parents. Kurt was their only child...  
  
_Ah'm Kurt Wagner,_ she thought, trying to catch her breath.  
  
But she knew that wasn't right. She had Rogue's body and Rogue's voice, but her mind's eye had been flooded with all kinds of painful, beautiful memories and she felt incredibly different. She felt stretched out, like she ought to be weighted down by something, and also strangely impatient and hyperactive, like she was a coiled spring. A live wire.  
  
"What just happened?" she blurted in confusion, trying to rid herself of the urge to slouch her shoulders. "Where am Ah? And Ah understand German!"  
  
She frowned. That didn't sound right.  
  
Yes, it did.  
  
No, it didn't.  
  
Ich verstehte Deutscher. 'I understand German.' She'd said that actually in German... Deutscher. German?  
  
Something clicked.  
  
"Ah can speak German?" she repeated, weirded out.  
  
It had happened when she touched his face. She'd stolen memories from him, and the ability to kind of- change places?  
  
A recent memory, "... next time I'll honk before I port."  
  
Port. Port? Teleport, yes. And THAT meant that she could- which meant-  
  
"The fuzzy one, Kurt- Ah'm him," she realised. "Just like Ah was Cody. Ah think Ah'm catchin' on now. But- how did Ah...?"  
  
It was too much for her. And with this feeling of wanting to get away, she suddenly saw her surroundings change in the blink of an eye- except she didn't even blink.  
  
BAMF!  
  
She was high, she was low, the moon was her spotlight. She felt like backflipping or something, but she knew she couldn't. She hadn't pulled a real backflip in years, since she stopped taking acrobatics lessons from... someone...  
  
... Why shouldn't she? _Ah'm Kurt Wagner, Ah'm great at backflips!_ she thought happily. Acrobatics were part of who she was.  
  
This- this was kind of fun. She laughed nervously, but too soon. She teleported to a dilapidated bench, which broke under her weight and sent her sprawling to the ground.  
  
She groaned in pain and slumped, giving in to the urge to bow her head. She'd hurt her ankle falling from the bench. "When is this all gonna end?" she said, frustrated.  
  
For a few minutes Rogue stayed forlornly on the ground. She held her ankle tightly, trying to make sense of her surroundings.  
  
Rogue got laboriously to her feet. She rubbed at her lower back to try and relieve the phantom pressure of an extension of her spine dragging in the dirt. She knew what it was now- Kurt had a tail, a long forked one, and the weight caused him to stoop his shoulders and walk with slightly bent knees. His odd posture was also caused by unusual feet- there were only two toes on each one.  
  
Her feet were really started to hurt. "Ah have TEN toes, fuck it!" she snapped, glaring down at her feet. "Ten toes, ya hear? Stop playin' up!" She pounded on her temples with her fists, trying furiously to drive it home that it was normal for her to have five toes on each foot, but to no avail. Rogue sat down at the foot of a grave to rest her feet. It would be fine. She'd collect her thoughts and find her way home...  
  
Someone emerged from the darkness, and Rogue inhaled the cemetary scent sharply, tensing up. Her whole body ached from running, from crashing into things. Rogue had bruises everywhere that gave her dull pain whenever she moved, particularly one of her ribs. Her ankle was killing her. She could only just walk normally.  
  
This new person was a girl with long red hair. She was a fair bit taller than Rogue, but Rogue was a good judge of age... or maybe Kurt was. It was getting hard to differentiate between her own abilities and his. This girl looked around Rogue's age, at most a year or two older. For a moment she looked calculated, as though trying not to make any sudden movements. Then she looked friendly. Rogue didn't take this as a sign to let her guard down, the boy had looked friendly too.  
  
Then the girl opened her pretty mouth and said the most ordinary thing in the world.  
  
"Hi."  
  
Rogue gazed at her incredulously, with some kindly feeling mixed with plain bewilderment. "Do- do Ah know you? Ugh, these memories. Ah'm so confused!"  
  
The girl nodded wisely. "Yeah, I know. I can relate to what you're going through."  
  
Rogue suddenly paired the words from her head with the person before her and leaped up with a thrill of horror. "Jean. You're Jean Grey," she spat angrily, and her voice wavered and compromised her. "You're like the others!"  
  
Jean Grey moved forward, but not aggressively. "Relax," she said firmly.  
  
It was easy for her to say. She seemed so calm. She was Jean Grey who could move things with her mind. People liked Jean Grey, and this in itself gave Rogue a powerful swell of contempt for the girl.  
  
"... I won't hurt you," Jean Grey was saying. "Look, it's tough to go it solo. Hey, zero pressure, but if you want to talk more, you can reach me anytime with this communicator." She held it up for Rogue to see, and Rogue had so many Jean Grey memories of Jean eating breakfast or playfully squabbling with some boy who constantly wore red shades or fighting in the uniform she was currently wearing that it didn't surprise her when the communicator floated to her hand.  
  
Rogue took it cautiously, glancing at Jean Grey. "Latest fashion accessory, huh?" she joked shakily.  
  
Out of the night behind Jean Grey, as dark as the seafloor, two people approached. One was unfamiliar, but the other- it was the white-haired woman who'd tried to blow her up. No. No, no, no, no, no!  
  
"You!" gasped Rogue, backing away. The woman looked puzzled. "You... no, you won't take me!" She turned around and ran for her life. She dimly heard the third person- a teenage boy- leap at her, but heard the splash and his grunt of pain as he ended up in a mud puddle.  
  
She was short of breath. Shooting pains erupted from her rib every so often, and her ankle twisted beneath her several times. With sobs of pain, she stopped, wrapping her arms around her ribcage in a vain effort to try and make the pain cease. She stared around without really seeing anything. Which way should she go?  
  
Rogue staggered up the steps into a dark, mossy crypt. At the foot of the coffin within, she curled into a ball and listened fearfully for the sounds of the X-Men coming to get her.  
  
... Minutes inched agonisingly past. She could hear insects in the air outside. Fiercely, she murmured to herself, "Don't find me, don't fine me, go away, leave me alone..."  
  
Hands clapped over her ears, she rocked back and forth slowly. Where was Irene? Had she escaped?  
  
A clatter of someone dropping through the open ceiling. Rogue cringed, trying to make herself as small as possible and then forced herself to look up. Quaking, she spied a tall boy with brown hair in his late teens. His eyes were hidden by a red visor. Her mouth dropped open.  
  
"Thought you could escape us, did you?" the boy barked, spotting Rogue. With a small cry she shied away, her wide eyes pleading with him to leave her alone. "The X-Men don't leave loose ends," he said ominously, and began to advance on her.  
  
With a yell of defeat she fled, stumbling down the steps of the crypt straight into- into the boy?  
  
HOW COULD HE BE IN TWO PLACES AT ONCE? This wasn't happening, how could it be happening? Summoning whatever strength she still had, she pushed him onto the ground and dashed back up the steps and into the crypt. Oh God, they were everywhere, they were all coming after her...  
  
Panting heavily, she made an abrupt stop, staring around in bewilderment. A dull flare of red asserted itself in the darkness and Jean Grey appeared. Rogue felt her fear ebb slightly. Only slightly, because of the expression on Jean's face. She looked- angry. God, what had she done now?  
  
"I tried, I really did, but some people just won't be helped!" snarled Jean Grey, starting forward menacingly. Rogue's eyes widened. If she were any younger or any more afraid than she was already, she might have burst into tears.  
  
Rogue teleported away. When she reappeared she found herself seeing only empty air and the tops of trees- and then she started to fall. Her ears rang and she seemed, for a few earth-shattering seconds, to take on only physical properties, falling at the speed of a rock. She heard her own scream as if she were a bystander. Perhaps this was what you felt- before you died.  
  
Some little voice in her head was howling in panic, and shutting her eyes tightly she managed to teleport to a short way above the ground. She still hit it hard, though.  
  
When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, she was horrified to discover Jean Grey leaning over her. "Are you hurt? Lie still, don't try to move," Jean said, all concerned. The white-haired woman was there too, she knelt down beside her too.  
  
Rogue freaked, squirming and jerking in her prone position in the dirt in a vain effort to escape the clutches of the X-Women. Jean jumped slightly, but the white-haired woman seemed worried. "Child, what is it? We are your friends."  
  
The traces of Kurt Wagner that remained in her mind responded happily to this statement, babbling encouragement that Rogue did not want to listen to. _You're not,_ Rogue thought hysterically. _You're not. You're not, you're not mah friends! No!_  
  
Her bare hand shot out instinctively and grabbed the woman's arm. Both bellowed in shock, and Rogue was swamped with memories.   
  
_Ah'm Ororo Munroe,_ she thought, but did not dwell on it as the weather suddenly went nuts. All she could hear was the crash and clatter of winds and rain as she rose into the air.  
  
This time there was no fear of falling. There was only fear itself, and pain as lightening burned in her skin and crackled in her brain. Rain pummelled her body and the ringing in her ears became a roar.  
  
"Too much power! Ah can't control it, Ah have to-" Rogue teleported away.  
  
She was thrown into a brick wall as if by another explosion. Rogue ricocheted off the bricks and onto her feet, staggered and fell in a heap. Her shoulder felt like it had come away from her, and her whole body was doused in something wet- not sweat, but rainwater. Tiny electric currents coursed through her hair, and when she clapped her hands to her head her fingers were shocked and jammed in one position.  
  
Gasping, feeling like her lungs were scorched by fire and ice, Rogue brought her knees up under her chin and didn't move, waiting for the X-Men to come and finish her off.  
  
"Just kill me," she whimpered.  
  
She wept, inconsolable. Rogue had teleported into an alleyway where the sounds of a steady stream of cars could be heard. Every sound of an engine backfiring was the clatter of aggressive footsteps, every exhaust roar a war cry.   
  
Eyes tightly closed, she stayed like that for a long time.  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: None of the X-Men belong to me. God, I wish they did. I'd steal shitloads of their outfits. I am only a slightly sad individual who, despite being in her teens, feels that Rogue is a Tragic Heroine on a par with Anna Karenina or all those ladies from Dickens. : ) All this belongs to WB, Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, whoever you like. 


	4. Chapter Three: Meeting Mystique

... When Rogue's eyes finally opened, sunlight burned into them. She whimpered, turning her head away and saw that a young, stressed-looking woman was standing over her, dialling her mobile phone. "Yes, the girl is breathing. No, Ah don't know how she got here. No. No, Ah didn't want to go through her pockets for ID. Ah don't think she even has any pockets."  
  
That wasn't true. Rogue had a small pocket in her skirt, that was where she was carrying the change from her ticket to the dance.  
  
"Yeah. Thank you. She looks pretty bad- you'd better send an ambulance quickly."  
  
Rogue lay there with the businesswoman holding her gloved hand for about twenty minutes before she really opened her eyes. The woman immediately said, "Don't try to move."  
  
"Where am Ah?" Rogue asked wearily.  
  
"Across the street from General Gas. Y'know, the gas station?"  
  
"Mmm." Rogue gave a kind of strangled sob and tried to turn her face away in shame as something like a tear escaped her eye. "It- hurts," she choked out.  
  
"You're being very brave," said the woman bossily. "What's your name?"  
  
"Rogue."  
  
"Oh. Nice name."  
  
Rogue gave her rescuer a massive glare.  
  
The woman rocked back and forth. "You can get a pizza delivered faster than you can get an ambulance or the police in this part of town. Somethin', huh?"  
  
"Yeah." Rogue shut her eyes. Guess last night wasn't a dream, she thought miserably, and with a great deal of pain she managed to lift her head slightly to hit it against the ground.  
  
"Don't do that," ordered the woman without trying to stop her. "How did ya get here, anyway?"  
  
"Ah don't remember."  
  
The woman raised her eyebrows. "Ya weren't using drugs last night, were-"  
  
"NO."  
  
"Were you attacked?"  
  
Rogue stiffened. "Yeah," she said finally, eyes closed. "Ah was- attacked." She gave another sob.  
  
"By who?"  
  
"Strange people chasing me-" whispered Rogue. More sobbing escaped her, tears sliding down her sore face from under her closed eyes. "Strange people- hurting me-"  
  
"Don't get worked up," her rescuer said, looking perturbed.  
  
"Strange people. Strangers- wouldn't leave me alone. Why wouldn't they leave me alone?" Rogue cried. She could hear sirens. The woman could hear them too, she kept turning behind her.  
  
Paramedics had arrived and started bundling Rogue into an ambulance. Rogue began putting up as big a fight as she could. "What are you doing?" she cried shrilly. "Get off me! Don't touch me!"  
  
"... she matches the description," muttered a paramedic to another. "What's your name?" he asked loudly.  
  
"Rogue Adler, but don't-"  
  
"Your foster mom called the police last night and gave your description. We know about your skin condition. We won't touch your skin with bare hands, don't worry."  
  
How could she not worry?  
  
Irene was already at the hospital, and sat in the corner as Rogue's wounds were patched up. "Don't be scared, honey," she called at regular intervals as Rogue further humiliated herself by crying.   
  
Rogue heard the terms for each separate ache wash over her. She was 'covered in bruises, mostly on the shoulders, spine, torso and arms with a few on the knees and lower legs. Twisted ankle, hairline fracture to one of her ribs, dislocated shoulder.' After she'd been lulled into half-sleep with painkillers she lay silently and heard the man she'd named Dr Pain and Irene converse. He didn't seem like a doctor. Maybe he was a detective.  
  
"What do you think happened to her?" asked Irene, touching one of Rogue's hands tenderly. She curled it into a fist, it seemed the pain was spreading all over her skin and affecting body parts that didn't have anything to do with one another.  
  
"Your foster daughter claimed when she was found that she was attacked by strangers and that she- uh- doesn't know what she did to deserve it. It must have been quite a group to inflict wounds like those- because from what you've told me Rogue is quite an accomplished martial artist."  
  
"She's been doing martial arts since she was five, yes."  
  
"At first glance it looked like she'd taken quite a beating but that's the strange thing. None of her bruises look like they were caused from fists or even blunt instruments. More like she was slammed into solid walls over and over again. There are some fingerprints on her clothes, but only partial ones. She didn't mention being sexually harassed or violated in any way, but there's always that possibility."  
  
"No," said Irene sharply.  
  
"No?"  
  
"Rogue would have said something. I-I've always told her-"  
  
"How long has Rogue been in your care?"  
  
"Since a little while before her eleventh birthday."  
  
"Would you say you have a good relationship?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And who was her guardian before you?"  
  
Irene stiffened. "I'd prefer not to discuss this here. She's listening."  
  
Dr Pain sounded impatient. "Rogue is asleep."  
  
"She pretends to be asleep sometimes... when she thinks she's done something wrong." Irene's voice was heavy.  
  
Rogue waited until they were gone before she used her unhurt arm to pull the pillow from underneath her head, press it to her face until it stifled her breathing. Then she screamed into it. For how long, she couldn't say.  
  
A few days passed and Rogue was permitted to return home. She was set up on the couch with a stack of books and magazines to wait out the hours of intense boredom.  
  
One late afternoon she was almost asleep when she heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. Blearily she opened her eyes to see a tall woman with glasses, black hair in a style frequented by women in their forties and conservative clothes. She was the first person other than Irene she'd seen in what felt like years.  
  
"Who're you?" Rogue frowned, hand closing over a rolled-up magazine as if she intended to use it as a weapon.  
  
The woman folded her arms. "My name is Raven Darkholme. I'm a friend of Irene's."  
  
"Raven?" repeated Rogue.  
  
Darkholme frowned. "What about it?" she asked, a little too readily.  
  
"... That's a nice name."  
  
Darkholme raised her eyebrows a fraction.  
  
"Sorry," muttered Rogue after a short pause.  
  
"And your name is Rogue."  
  
"Mmm. Uh, are ya here to see Irene? 'Cause not to be rude or anythin' but Ah can't really jump up and find her for ya."  
  
"Oh no, dear. I'm here to see you." This was stated very matter-of-factly, as if Rogue was meant to guess it ages ago.  
  
Uneasily, she watched Irene's friend pull up a chair and sit down. Rogue murmured, "All right..."  
  
"So." Darkholme clapped her long-fingered hands together. "I hear you're a mutant, Rogue."  
  
Rogue dropped her magazine. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Don't fret, you're not the only one," said Darkholme impatiently. "For some, it's a perfectly normal part of growing up." Rogue remembered something very similar being said when the school nurse in junior high had loudly informed her (as she was exiting assembly) that she needed to wear a bra.  
  
"Ah'm not the only one?" she found herself repeating.  
  
"What did you think you absorbed from the X-Men? What did you think those X-Men were pulling the other night- carnival tricks?"  
  
"Guess not."  
  
"The best advice I can give you is to steer well clear of them. Traitorous vigilantes hunting their own kind at what SHOULD be the most joyous part of their young lives- the emergence of one's powers. There are ever-increasing numbers of mutants not only in America, but all around the world. And every one of them generally has a unique and interesting ability."  
  
"So what are ya, some kind of expert on mutants?" asked Rogue finally.  
  
"You could say that. I've known a lot of them. Tell me what you think you know about your powers, Rogue."  
  
Rogue noticed the significance of the words 'what you think you know.' "When mah skin touches someone else's skin, somethin'- like... happens. Their thoughts are in mah head. The recent thoughts and then... Ah think... memories. But those are all in a jumble- Ah get recent ones and old ones all at once. Ah've been havin' these nightmares- the really scary ones are about mah house fallin' down, and about bein' locked in these tiny spaces. But they're not mah nightmares. For one thing Ah'm not claustrophobic, and for another- well, in those dreams Ah'm either usually a black kid, or lookin' on at this black family. And Ah absorbed a black woman on the night of the dance." She paused. "It's kinda scary."  
  
"It is scary, but only at first. When you get used to your powers-"  
  
"Oh no," said Rogue, shaking her head. "Ah won't need to. Ah'm never touching another human being ever again."  
  
"Ever again? Think about what you're saying, Rogue. Are you saying that if someone were drowning you wouldn't offer your hand to them because you might get a very real idea of what their fourth birthday party was like?"  
  
"Well, Ah never go swimmin' so there's not much of a chance of that happenin'."  
  
Darkholme sneered. "And you're never going to have a boyfriend?"  
  
Rogue tried not to blush, but she did. "Ah hate boys. It's 'cause of an idiot boy Ah'm in this mess."  
  
"You mustn't blame Mr Robinson for what has happened. You should thank him- he pointed you in the direction you were meant to go."  
  
Rogue folded her arms (wincing) and stared stubbornly at Darkholme.  
  
"And on that note, Rogue- you'll never have children either, if you deny yourself that particular thing. At least not real ones."  
  
"Adopted kids are real ones too," said Rogue, without thinking. She unfolded her arms laboriously and started wringing her hands.  
  
"I didn't say they weren't."  
  
Rogue realised what she'd said and added hastily, "Ah'm not having kids either. Nasty, disgusting little vermin."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"And Ah'm definitely never, never, never touching anyone ever again."  
  
"I understand that."  
  
"No-one understands."  
  
"Well, if you don't think I do, Irene certainly does. She was the one who insisted the doctors treating you had to be well covered up. She doubted, as I do, that you'd want images of grisly operations in your head."  
  
"How did she know?" frowned Rogue.  
  
"I suggest you ask her yourself," said Darkholme coolly. "Rogue. Dear. Know that I am speaking in your own best interests when I tell you not to lie around feeling sorry for yourself. Now is the time for action."  
  
"Ah have fractures," said Rogue bitchily. "Ah can't move from this spot."  
  
Darkholme raised an eyebrow equally bitchily and looked pointedly at the crutches lying on the floor near Rogue. "Dear God, what have all these years without a real mother done to you?"  
  
Rogue stiffened. "Irene's a good mom. She's all-"  
  
"All you know?" said Darkholme knowingly. "All you remember?"  
  
"Ah was gonna say, 'All Ah could need in a mom.'"  
  
"But it wasn't what you thought," Darkholme said triumphantly.  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"I'm sorry," Darkholme said finally. She sounded slightly ashamed. "It wasn't my place to say that."  
  
As much dislike as she felt for Raven Darkholme, she felt at that moment that Darkholme was the first adult other than Irene who'd ever apologised to her and meant it. Maybe even the first adult, period.  
  
"Ah don't remember when Ah twisted mah ankle, but it must've been before Ah landed in the alley. How did Ah run on a twisted ankle?" asked Rogue, merely for something to say. "With a fractured rib an' everything..."  
  
"Mutants can generally endure more pain for longer amounts of time. They commonly have greater stamina and agility than normal humans. And they live longer, that's a fact." Darkholme paused and then, as if Rogue had asked, said, "At the very least, five to ten years longer than the current life expectancy for their sex. You'll live to well over a hundred, Rogue."  
  
"Yay for me," muttered Rogue, glaring from under lowered eyelids.  
  
"You see, it's not all bad. You might even heal faster, which would be very good news. The quicker we can get you well, the quicker the move from here to Bayville can be made."  
  
Rogue didn't like that 'we'. "To- where?"  
  
"Bayville. It's a town in Westchester. I'm principal of the high school there. Irene and I both feel you'd benefit from a change of scene, and of course- well, let's be brutally honest." Darkholme's thin mouth twisted in a sneer, ill-disguised as a caring smile. "You can't go back to Berridge High. I went there with Irene to chat with some of your teachers. All of the students are talking about what happened at the dance."  
  
Rogue sighed. "Oh."  
  
"Besides, you were never happy there. We ascertained that much from talking with your teachers, and the school psychiatrist."  
  
Frowning, Rogue said, "Uh, Ah never saw him."  
  
"The school psychiatrist was the one who initially suggested a move from Berridge High. I had merely come to convey my hopes for your speedy recovery in person, but I feel it's a splendid idea." Darkholme straightened her glasses.  
  
Rogue looked up. She looked tired, unhappy and ill, and knew it. "So Ah guess Ah got no choice."  
  
"It's not as melodramatic as all that, Rogue." Rogue noticed that Darkholme didn't contradict her.  
  
"Where would Ah live?"  
  
"At a place in Bayville called the Brotherhood Boarding House. It's only a short drive from the school."  
  
"And- and what would Ah do there?"  
  
"Fine-tune your abilities and help others do the same."  
  
"OK, fine. Sounds good. Ah- Ah was sick of Berridge High anyhow."  
  
"Excellent. I'll see you soon, Rogue." Darkholme turned to leave.  
  
Rogue glared. "Ah dunno how ya can just tell me how mah life's gonna go from now on. You don't have any idea what's goin' on with me."  
  
Darkholme turned around. Hands on her hips, she smirked very slightly. "Don't I?"  
  
Her temper flared. Rogue sat up to shout, "No, ya don't!"  
  
"Oh, Rogue. I think I have more than an idea of what's happening in your life. I went through something very similar when I was younger than you are now."  
  
"That's bullshit," said Rogue bluntly. She suddenly didn't care about being polite.  
  
Darkholme raised her eyebrows. "Is it now? Well, then, I guess my memories of when I was-"  
  
Without warning, something seemed to- happen. From navel up and navel down simultaneously, Darkholme changed. She grew much shorter than she was. Her face became younger and somehow even more mocking, like that of a creepy china doll.  
  
She changed into a young girl- younger than Rogue. She was shorter than the adult Darkholme, but still tall for her age. She was dressed in an old-fashioned skirt, blouse and cardigan with black lace-up shoes and her dark hair was tied neatly back from her face. She had blue eyes and pale skin.  
  
Rogue's mouth dropped open.  
  
"- thirteen and becoming something stronger than anyone could ever guess are a complete deluded fantasy," continued mini-Darkholme as though nothing had happened. "Thank you so much for enlightening me, young Rogue."  
  
"What are you?" whispered Rogue, eyes popping.  
  
Mini-Darkholme giggled girlishly, a slight hand over her mouth. "Rogue, Rogue, Rogue. I am nothing more and nothing less than what you are now. I'm a mutant- one of your mutant brethren.  
  
"Now, when I was about thirteen I used to find that my looks could completely change from when I fell asleep to when I woke up. And yet when I took a second glance in the mirror I looked just the same as I always had. I thought I was going insane." Mini-Darkholme delved thoughtfully into her skirt pocket and retrieved a pair of thin wire glasses, which she put on carefully. She blinked slowly, innocently. "Especially as by the time I was fourteen I had begun to look- now, how did I look?"  
  
As she mused, mini-Darkholme's looks changed again. She grew slightly taller. Her eyes had grown colder and even more calculating, and they went from inky-blue to an unnatural yellow-green. The glasses seemed to melt into her skin, disappearing. And her skin! Her skin had taken on a disconcertingly blue tinge and her almost-black, shoulder-length hair was overwhelmingly streaked with bright red. When she smiled at Rogue's horrified expression, she showed her teeth. The canines had turned into small fangs.  
  
"Sometimes I could change into my true form in a public place, such as school. Most often it was at school. I became afraid of going there. It was only a matter of time before my parents found out what had happened to their only daughter. They disowned me. Or... perhaps I ran away from home. That was what they told their friends. Luckily, I was not the only mutant in the world. I was found and mentored by another, and I learned not to be frightened by the changes in my appearance. So when I finally wound up in my early twenties looking something like this-"  
  
Teenage Darkholme changed again. She increased greatly in height, and her skin flushed to a deep blue. Her hair was long and entirely red. Her eyes were livid yellow.  
  
"I really wasn't bothered by the change," Darkholme finished. She strode over to where Rogue sat and knelt in front of her. "And I have remained this way ever since. Call me Mystique."  
  
Rogue tried to shut her mouth. "Hi," she squeaked.  
  
Darkholme- Mystique? Darkholme?- gave a more genuine smile, a maternal sort of smile. "I want to help you, Rogue. I really... really do understand how it is you're feeling. And although our circumstances aren't exactly the same, I can truly imagine what it must be like to be you..."  
  
Rogue hung her head, unable to take this in. When she looked up she flinched, because Darkholme had taken on Rogue's appearance. Rogue-Darkholme smiled conspiratorially. "You should feel honoured to be the miracle that you are, Rogue."  
  
"Are you really a high school principal?" asked Rogue softly.  
  
"Yes. At the moment, I am. When you arrive in Bayville, you will call me Mystique only when no-one else can hear. When I'm in my principal guise, obviously you'll refer to me as Principal Darkholme." It felt really weird to see herself saying this with Mystique's voice.  
  
"OK."  
  
"And remember, my true identity will be our little secret."  
  
"'Course."  
  
"Good girl. I'll see you in a few weeks, Rogue." With that, Rogue-Darkholme took her leave.  
  
Over the weeks Rogue stayed out of school, recuperating, she slept a fair bit. She developed sleeping patterns right out of vampire folklore- she'd awaken sometime after sunset and retire to bed as the sun rose again. Rogue spent her waking hours playing CDs softly, trying out little tunes on her guitar, half-reading books and magazines or just staring out the window at the occasional pair of car headlights blazing out of the night darkness. Irene had all her assignments sent to her- after all, the last thing Rogue needed was to fall behind with her schoolwork.  
  
And what Darkholme had said rang true. She was fully healed a week or two before the doctors predicted she would be, and efforts were redoubled to get her to Bayville. Rogue refused to leave the house except to fetch the paper from the front lawn once a day. She sent away for some new clothes and trimmed her own hair. Finally the day came when Irene flatly told the closest thing she had to a daughter to pack her things. Rogue's flight would leave that night.  
  
Tensely, they sat in the airport that evening, watching without seeing as people charged unstoppably towards or away from families they loved. A bland female voice announced things over the intercom.  
  
"Irene?" Rogue asked tentatively.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Are ya- a mutant?"  
  
"Like you?" asked Irene.  
  
"Yeah, like me."  
  
"No."  
  
Rogue frowned. "Oh."  
  
"A mutant, yes, but not a mutant like you."  
  
"So-"  
  
"I am a mutant of sorts."  
  
"What's your- thing? Like, what do ya do?"  
  
"I can see the future. My mutant friends call me Destiny."  
  
"Nice. Do you ever see mah future?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What about mah present?" asked Rogue sceptically. "Ever see that?"  
  
"I do. I saw it in the past, which made it your future then."  
  
"So you know what Ah look like even though you're blind."  
  
Irene nodded.  
  
"Whaddya think? Ah mean, do ya like what ya... see?"  
  
Irene didn't answer.  
  
"Tell me what Ah look like," challenged Rogue. "So Ah know you're not screwin' with me."  
  
She rarely cursed in front of Irene, but Irene didn't even react to that. "You're about my height- maybe half a head shorter."  
  
"Pfft. Ya can tell that just by putting a hand on mah head. C'mon, dazzle me."  
  
"You have pale skin and you wear a lot of makeup. It makes you look even paler. Specifically, you seem to prefer purple lipstick and eyeshadow. Your eyes are sort of- grey-green." Irene had faltered here, her eyebrows knitting. She gestured vaguely around as she said what colour Rogue's eyes were. "Your hair is auburn, about chin-length and you have white bangs. You wear mostly dark clothes. At the school dance you were wearing a green semi-transparent top with a black shirt underneath, as well as a leather skirt and boots."  
  
Rogue realised her mouth was slightly open and closed it. "Oh," was all she could think to say. Then- "So do ya regret puttin' all those pictures of me in the house? Ah mean, ya can't see 'em, but... do ya think Ah'm OK-lookin'?"  
  
"I think you're perfect." This was not said sentimentally, but stated. This threw Rogue. Finally she saw fit to take Irene's hand.  
  
"Thanks," she said quietly, and they sat for awhile, just watching all the people rushing by.  
  
"What am Ah gonna be like in ten years' time?" asked Rogue, just to fill the silence.  
  
Irene smirked. "Ten years older."  
  
Rogue managed to laugh. It sounded strained. "You're funny. Really."  
  
The two sat and listened as a message came over the loudspeaker. "Ah think mah flight's s'posed to start boarding," said Rogue awkwardly. She gave Irene's hand a squeeze and stood up, clearing her throat. "Uh-"  
  
Irene stood up suddenly and enveloped Rogue in a huge hug. Rogue stood very still and just let herself be hugged.  
  
"Write to me, I'll write to you," said Irene indistinctly.  
  
"OK," said Rogue in a small voice.  
  
Irene Adler and Rogue, her foster daughter of five years, had one final hug. Then they had to say goodbye.  
  
The flight was passable. There were movies, all of which Rogue despised. Rogue spent much of it listening to CDs and reading. She had a few new novels for the trip, but she just went over _Dracula_ over and over again, skipping to her favourite parts. It was like she wanted to go back to when she was reading that child's version. She'd become slightly desensitised to it- the blood wasn't vivid red in her mind's eye, and Lucy Westenra's voice didn't turn to the aristocratic British chirrup she'd once imagined it to be inside her head, from watching period dramas on television.  
  
She couldn't keep her mind on the story. Maybe it would never be the same again.   
  
Rogue had to be brave. She was going to Bayville in Westchester to become a part of this Brotherhood so she could start a new life as a mutant. Nobody would know her there.  
  
She arrived at the Bayville airport early in the morning. When she'd collected her luggage she went and stood outside groggily- but only for a moment, before a hand landed on her shoulder. She flinched and shrugged it off, and looked up into the face of Raven Darkholme.  
  
"Rogue Adler?" asked Darkholme quizzically.  
  
She got it. _Act like you've never seen her before._ "Principal Darkholme. It's a pleasure," said Rogue immediately, as though they had only ever spoken on the phone. She solemnly shook the woman's bony hand.  
  
They walked away together.  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: None of the X-Men belong to me. I am only a slightly sad individual who, despite being in her teens, feels that Rogue is a Tragic Heroine on a par with Anna Karenina or all those ladies from Dickens. : ) All this belongs to WB, Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, whoever you like.  
  
NOTES: You know the thing about being able to get a pizza delivered faster than you can get the police or an ambulance? Well, that's what the area I live in is like. And it's an OK area- I mean, I don't live in the pits of Hell or anything. But isn't that disgusting? It makes me so angry.  
  
Don't expect another chapter for at least a week. I have exams coming up and they are VERY VERY important. I've been studying madly for two weeks and I'm still freaking out. The thing with this fic is I've been writing it mostly in excerpts- there are loads and loads of different bits from different episodes all written up in Rogue's POV drifting around on my computer. That's just the way I work.  
  
To answer enchantedlight's question, I will be making up LOTS of my own events. There are just so many questions that need answering about Rogue, and the really fun thing about this fic is that I will get to answer them my way. I will be sticking to the scripts but many missing scenes will be inserted... as you may have seen in this chapter. 


	5. Chapter Four: Bayville

Darkholme ushered her into a black stretch limo waiting in the airport parking lot. Rogue looked around appreciatively. "Nice ride," she said in approval as the principal climbed in herself and motioned to the driver (who did not speak nor show his face) that they should pull away.  
  
"I like to conduct business meetings comfortably," Darkholme said, nodding.  
  
"Business meetings? Uh, right. So, where are all the stiffs in suits, Principal Darkholme?"  
  
Without warning, Darkholme morphed into Mystique. Rogue froze and looked in terror at the driver. Mystique smiled. "It's all right, Rogue. Nobody can see us. And he knows I'm a mutant. He knows, Rogue."  
  
"Does he know what Ah am?" asked Rogue, frowning. She didn't exactly want it spread around town.  
  
"He doesn't know, nor does he care. He's paid not to care."  
  
"Fulfillin' job," quipped Rogue.  
  
Mystique looked as though she was trying not to smile. "Are you jetlagged at all, Rogue?"  
  
Rogue waved a hand to indicate that she was undecided. "A bit. Ah've never flown on an airplane before."  
  
Mystique's eyebrows lifted the slightest fraction. "Really?"  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"All right." There was something weird about the tone of her voice. "Just lie back then, Rogue. We'll be at the Brotherhood headquarters soon."  
  
"Thanks." Rogue leaned her head back.  
  
"You start school tomorrow. All the things you'll need for school are waiting for you back at the house. Do you feel you need to call Irene when you get home?"  
  
Rogue looked at Mystique and nodded. "Yes, please."  
  
"You'll be allowed to call her once a week, although as this is your first week in Bayville and you've never lived away from home before I suppose I can turn a blind eye to you calling her more than once. But only for the first week. Does that sound fair to you?"  
  
Shrugging, Rogue answered, "Sure."  
  
"You do know that you're expected to make your own meals and do your own laundry?"  
  
Rogue looked at her incredulously. "Do you think Ah'm a kid or something? Of course Ah knew that."  
  
Mystique looked down at her hands and then at Rogue. "You travelled very light for a teenage girl, Rogue. That's promising. You know what's important."  
  
"Ah would have only brought one bag, but Ah couldn't leave mah guitar and it needs its own case, so whatever."  
  
"I didn't know you were musical." Mystique did not sound thrilled about this.  
  
"Ah'm not, really. Ah'm teachin' mahself to play. Ah-" (she hesitated) "- Ah like to write songs. Just bits of songs."  
  
"Really." Mystique looked as though she was trying not to appear interested. "So... what else are you interested in?"  
  
Rogue found it hard to believe someone like Mystique could want to be informed of her hobbies. "Um. Ah like to write songs. Ah can sing a bit, but Ah don't like that to get out. Ah like martial arts, Ah went to classes until last year. Ah like music and clothes, sort of. Ah read too."  
  
"What do you like to read?"  
  
"Well- most people think this is kinda weird, but Ah really love vampire novels. Ah'm totally obsessed. Ah've read every Anne Rice book I could get mah hands on. Ah've read Christopher Pike too; he did this good series. But mah favourite book of all time is _Dracula,_ by Bram Stoker. Ah adore vampire novels."  
  
Mystique let herself smile. "I knew you would."  
  
Rogue tried not to feel offended that Mystique thought she'd like vampire novels just because she dressed like a goth. It wasn't like she knew Rogue or anything. Grudgingly, she went on, "Ah read some thrillers too, and other horror stories. But most of all Ah like mah vampire books. There's just somethin' about them that really gets to me. But usually when Ah tell people how much Ah like 'em they go all awkward and think it's some kinda freaky sexual thing-" She stopped and blushed as Mystique laughed.  
  
"Go on," said Mystique, smiling. The smile was disconcerting because you could see her pointed canine teeth, but it was genuine.  
  
Rogue looked embarrassed. "Still, Ah- Ah guess Ah have a foolproof reason for likin' 'em now, don't Ah? Ah mean, Ah am a literal vampire mahself."  
  
"Those are some good, well-rounded interests, Rogue. I'm an educator, after all, I should know about teenagers and good, well-rounded interests," smirked Darkholme.  
  
"Is there anyone else at these headquarters?" asked Rogue.  
  
"Two boys already live there. Todd Tolensky and Lance Alvers. They're both about your age. I'm trying to recruit a mutant boy who shows off his powers for money... in a ring." She looked deeply scornful. "Like a trained animal. God."  
  
"Yeah," said Rogue softly, feeling a powerful surge of admiration for the woman. She must really care about mutants havin' dignity and stuff.  
  
"Bayville isn't a hard town to get your head around, Rogue. A couple of weeks and you'll have found out basically everything you need to know about it. There aren't many ways to get into trouble in Bayville." Mystique smirked, as though she thought she had wrecked Rogue's fun and liked that idea.  
  
Rogue folded her arms. "Ya don't need to worry about me. Ah don't get out much. At least, not in the way you think."  
  
Mystique clapped her hands. "Excellent. You are going to be a great addition to our cause, Rogue."  
  
Rogue frowned and then, for some reason, twitched rather audibly. She got a glazed look in her eye.  
  
"... Rogue?" she heard Mystique say from what seemed to be very far away. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
_A tall figure was holding a punchbag still for her after she'd been hitting it for a few minutes. "Good. Now, do it again. Try and hit the same mark."  
  
She blew some sweaty strands of hair out of her face angrily. "Not _try_ and hit the same mark. Ah _did_ hit the same friggin' mark. This sucks, Ah got how to do this exercise long ago and you're still makin' me do it and Ah don't even understand why."  
  
The figure smirked. "Consider it revision of tactics, Rogue."  
  
"Ah want to take a break."  
  
The figure shook its head, sneering maddeningly. "It's not time for your break yet, Rogue. You can still get in a good twenty minutes."  
  
"Ah want a drink of water, then."  
  
"Your drink bottle's right there," the figure said, pointing at a plastic bottle sitting on the floor a short way away. "But don't drink too much water, you'll get sluggish."  
  
She was flushing with frustration. "Ah _hate_ this!" She pulled off her boxing gloves and threw them on the ground with a shriek of rage. "Now let me take a break!"  
  
Before she had time to blink she felt a hand at her throat. The figure walked her briskly backwards until she backed up into a wall. It was a big room; it took her a fair few seconds to hit the wall. The room was also underground, it was lit by blazing fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The figure held her tightly by her neck. She stared up in shock.  
  
"You will do what I tell you," said the figure smoothly. "You are learning this so you can become an active member of our cause. If I wasn't so patient a teacher I might break your neck. You know I can do that, Rogue. You know I would, if you weren't who you are."  
  
As much as the death-grip on her throat would allow, Rogue nodded. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Good." The figure released her and then walked her over to where she had been standing before. "Put on your gloves now, Rogue."  
  
"Y-Yes ma'am," Rogue said rather shrilly, picking up the gloves and jamming her hands into them hastily.  
  
The figure gave her skinny shoulders a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. Then the figure walked, as though she had all the time in the world, to the punching bag. She held it steady. "Rogue, dearie. Hit the mark again, now."  
  
Shakily, Rogue held up her fists.  
  
"That's right," crooned the figure. "Hold up your fists, just like that. Good girl." She paused. "Do you need to catch your breath?"  
  
"That never stopped me before." Rogue did exactly what she was told and started hitting the mark._  
  
"... Rogue!"  
  
Rogue jumped. "Uh, what?"  
  
"You went blank, dear."  
  
"Guess Ah am jetlagged, then," said Rogue.  
  
"Hmm. Did you not sleep on the plane at all?"  
  
"Not a wink."  
  
"Lie back. You'll be at your new home soon."  
  
Rogue smiled slightly. "Mah new home..." She liked the sound of that.  
  
"That's right."  
  
Rogue actually did succeed in falling half-asleep, but jolted awake as the limo came to a stop. "Are we there yet?" she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.  
  
"Yes. Come on, come and see it." Sunlight poured into the backseat of the limo as the driver opened the door.  
  
"Thanks, Jeeves," muttered Rogue as she climbed out of the car, and she grinned rather wickedly. For some reason she stopped smiling as Mystique (who had shifted back into her Darkholme form) gave her a sharp look.  
  
"Rogue..." she said warningly.  
  
"Sorry, ma'am," Rogue blurted, lowering her gaze. She frowned as she hauled her bags out of the trunk of the limo. Since when did she call people 'ma'am'? Rogue was by turns polite for her age and a right little sarcastic bleeder, but... _ma'am_? Where had _that_ come from?  
  
It was only when she straightened up, loaded down with her luggage, that she got a good look at the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House. It was big. Big and creepy-looking.  
  
"What do you think?" asked Darkholme. She didn't sound like she expected Rogue to be overly thrilled, but Rogue figured she might as well fake a little enthusiasm.  
  
Rogue bit at her lip. "It's big," she said seriously. _Not to mention creepy-lookin'._  
  
"It's daunting at first. It hasn't been lived in for awhile, either." Darkholme wasn't apologising for this. Rogue could tell by her voice. "It's in good repair, though."  
  
Rogue jumped as an explosive crash emanated from within. Darkholme simply thinned her mouth and glowered.  
  
"... Although the other tenants may soon do something to change that. I'll go ahead. You can show yourself in." Darkholme stormed up the front steps, across the porch and through the front door, which Rogue could now see was slightly ajar. She heard a distant yell of, "What have you clods DONE?"  
  
The limo started to drive away. Rogue wondered briefly where it was kept, because she saw no sign of a garage. She watched in silence as it wove its way down the drive and through the dilapidated gates. Over under a tree she could see a car parked- a little way beyond that, a Jeep was chained to a tree.  
  
She showed herself in as Darkholme had suggested. In the front hall was a flight of stairs leading up to the second floor, as well as several doorways leading into a kitchen area and a living room, which was where the yelling was coming from.  
  
Rogue followed the sounds of yelling into the front living room. Darkholme stood there, bellowing at two mutinous-looking boys. Sensing Rogue's presence, she turned around to speak to her. "Ah, Rogue. These are Toad and Avalanche."  
  
Rogue gave them a supremely unimpressed look. "Ah'm Rogue."  
  
The taller boy had brown hair in a mullet hairdo. He folded his arms. "Lance Alvers."  
  
"The name's Todd, yo," said the shorter boy. He was skinny, with a crooked spine that gave him a hunchback. He grinned evilly with yellow, broken teeth.  
  
"Now that we've dispatched preliminaries, Rogue, there are spare rooms upstairs. The bathroom is second on the left. The third door on the right is your room."  
  
"Thanks." Rogue went to leave.  
  
"Hey, is she comin' with us today?" asked Todd.  
  
"No," said Darkholme in a chilly voice.  
  
"What? That ain't fair," whined Toad. "She's our age, ain't she? She's still in high school."  
  
"She is staying here today and that is final, Toad."  
  
"But-"  
  
Rogue had been leaving the room, but stopped as she heard something like a lion's roar erupt from the living room. "What the f-" she gasped, rushing back to the doorway. Darkholme was standing with folded arms, glaring at the boys. Toad was gibbering with fright, and Avalanche had gone pale.  
  
Rogue shook her head and went up the stairs. _Weird,_ she thought.  
  
The room that was hers was an OK size. Rogue piled her bags at the end of her bed and lay down. She drifted off to sleep.  
  
That day was decidedly boring. It shouldn't have been. Rogue was well used to being alone, and the boarding house was a good place to explore. Rogue took a long shower (which was agony- something about the shower nozzle thing caused each the water to sear into her back like tiny drills), washed her hair, unpacked her things and looked through her new schoolthings, which were inside her room. She thought it might have been a lack of company, but when the boys came home from school she locked herself up in her room, and didn't come down even when they yelled they'd got pizza.  
  
The next morning she was up at five AM, fully dressed by five-thirty. She had to wait ages for the boys, who just messed around watching cartoons and eating endless cereal. She got a little agitated and went to Mystique, who had shifted into her Darkholme form and was about to leave for work.  
  
"Mystique, Ah'm gonna be late on mah first day. Can't ya do something?" She expected Mystique to tell her to do her own griping, or offer to write her a note, or something. However, Darkholme simply nodded.  
  
"Very well. I'll give you a lift."  
  
That was how Rogue found herself sitting in the front passenger seat of Principal Darkholme's car. She watched the trees and manicured lawns of the suburbs wash past the car windows, and finally asked, "Are we almost there?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"OK, ya can let me out here."  
  
Darkholme raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Ah can't turn up at school on mah first day in the principal's car. They'll eat me alive."  
  
"You should have thought of that before you accepted my offer to give you a ride to school. Besides, there's only a few blocks to go."  
  
"A few blocks in which direction?"  
  
Darkholme gave her an appraising look. "East." With an eye-roll, she pulled over to the side of the road. "There'll probably be a lot of students walking to the school, and anyway, you can't miss it."  
  
"'Preciate it." Rogue climbed out onto the sidewalk, shouldering her backpack. She leaned over to say this to Darkholme through the open front passenger window.  
  
"I understand how important it is to people your age to be popular, Rogue." Darkholme looked very scathing.  
  
Rogue looked disbelieving. "Please. You think Ah actually go in for that crap? Ah'm wicked bad and Ah want everyone to stay away from me, and Ah wanna start by not showin' up in the principal's car, OK? Ya clear?"  
  
"Crystal," said Darkholme, looking much less scathing. They parted ways there.  
  
As Rogue walked to school her heart became heavy. She felt the same way she had on her first day at Berridge High, more so as she walked in and saw with one glance that nobody was like her. Her head became lowered as she found the front office. The secretary even _looked_ perky, and yet she felt so apprehensive all of a sudden that even that didn't sway her.  
  
"Hi, I'm Dorothy. May I help you?" asked Dorothy the Perky Secretary.  
  
"Yeah. Ah- Ah'm Rogue Adler. Ah'm here to pick up mah schedule and stuff."  
  
Dorothy studied something. "Oh, yes. Rogue Adler. Principal Darkholme asks that you see her in her office before school."  
  
"OK."  
  
Dorothy smiled kindly, in the vapid way of someone with no predicaments such as Rogue's in their life. "Don't worry, the first day is always a little scary."  
  
Rogue resented being spoken to as if she were half her present age. However, she muttered, "Sure." and went into the principal's office.  
  
Darkholme sat behind her desk, looking through some papers. Without looking up, she said, "I see you made it to school without being abducted, Rogue." She looked up and smirked. "What do you think so far?"  
  
"Ah've only been here for about ten minutes."  
  
"Indulge me. And please, sit down."  
  
Rogue sat, searching for something to say. "Secretary's a piece of work, ain't she?" She managed to smile for about half a second, then averted her gaze. "Uh- y'don't have a dress code or somethin' here, do ya? 'Cause everyone stared at me in the halls like Ah had two heads."  
  
"People stare at what they don't understand, dear. You, Rogue, are an enigma."  
  
Rogue suspected this was a compliment. She mumbled something and hunched over just that little bit more in her seat.  
  
Darkholme was sitting on her desk now. She swung her legs slightly. "Stop into the office for your schedule, I'm afraid I don't have it here."  
  
Rogue nodded mutely.  
  
Darkholme heaved a great sigh as if this endeavour was taking everything out of her, smiled in her thin way, folded her hands and said, "Welcome to Bayville High. I'm sure you'll be very happy here. Happy and safe."  
  
Rogue stiffened. Happy, safe. Together, those words were alien to her. Her shoulder and rib began to ache just thinking about all she'd endured. "Sure. Thank you." She got up and left.  
  
From the pocket of her skirt she extracted the communicator that Jean Grey had given her. She stared at it, barely remembering how she'd got it. Rogue wondered how great its range was and where the giver, Jean Grey, was now.  
  
She picked up her schedule from the front office and looked closely at it. The classes she could stand- French, English- intermixed with the ones she hated- European History and Geometry. Rogue knew that was probably some kind of clever metaphor for her life, but she couldn't be bothered to think of it now.  
  
And in the hallways, whose population of scurrying students greatly diminished as they disappeared into their classes, Rogue stepped into the shadows, figuring they'd let her be late on her first day, and fiddled with the communicator.  
  
A squawk of static erupted from it, making her jump. She had the weirdest feeling that she was not alone.  
  
Slowly, dreading what she would see, the sound of static somehow growing louder and louder until it threatened to drown her, Rogue raised her face to gaze upon four teenagers who had stopped in the hallway upon recognising her.  
  
Two boys, two girls. An astonished-looking youth her age, with longish dark hair and the kind of skin she would have expected of a European- pale, though not so much as hers. A brown-haired senior wearing blood-red shades that masked his eyes. A tall, elegant sort of girl with red hair and a petite freshman girl with her brunette hair tied in a ponytail.  
  
The X-Men.  
  
Rogue couldn't breathe. They couldn't have come this far, waited this long to get her!  
  
But... no. They attended Bayville High too. Rogue remembered now, from Kurt's memories. She knew there was a reason why it had looked so familiar when she'd seen it the first time...  
  
Safe! Safe HERE? What had Darkholme been thinking? Hadn't Irene told her? Hadn't anyone checked-?  
  
The X-Men stared at the rogue in plain confusion, and she stared back in great fear. In one smooth movement she lifted a hand and dropped the communicator into the nearest trash bin. Every second was eternal. It felt like she was a character in a film moving in slow motion and they would snatch hold of her at any moment. None moved though. Without looking at any of them she rushed fearfully past toward her first class in the hell she'd been sent to.  
  
She ran all the way.  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: None of the X-Men belong to me. If they did, I'd have Kitty wear her hair out more often. All this belongs to WB, Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, whoever you like.  
  
NOTES: Exams are a bitch. If the sectors of economy or how to calculate the circumference of a circle start cropping up in my fics, you'll know I'm starting to crack from studying.  
  
If anyone is interested, the prequel to this fic, a one-shot called _Rogue Angel,_ is up on my profile, as well as my humour fic, _Kitty's New Look._ Sneer. I ain't shameless at all, am I?  
  
Now, a note about ships that will show up in this fic. I am actually a fan of Rogue's crush on Scott. I am a one-sided Scogue, I guess. I think the whole thing about it is quite sweet and tragic, really, and great fodder for my fic. But I am actually one of the biggest Romy fans you'll ever meet. I know it'll probably take years to reach that point in my fic, but I cannot WAIT to introduce Remy and get some real Romy flirting action happening. You know, my interpretations of all the best Romy scenes in the show. Yay! But I suppose a lot of this fic is going to be- shudder- one-sided Scogue.  
  
... Great, I can see the Romys, my brethren, screaming and running for the hills. But I must point out something to you- just because Rogue has a crush on Scott doesn't mean she has to think he's bigger than Jesus or something. She will have a crush on him, yes. However, I am still going to take the piss out of Mr Stick-Up-the-Arse Tucks-His-Pyjama-Shirt-Into-His-Pyjama-Pants Scott Summers. I like him OK. But it's really rather impossible to pass up the opportunity for a little bit of fun at his expense. He practically begs for it, bless him. I mean- heh, heh, "Your judgement was pretty lame!"  
  
Thank you so much to the nice people who have reviewed so far. Star-of-Chaos, ishandahalf, giggleboxsam and enchantedlight, you guys absolutely ROCK. (And yeah, ishandahalf, Mystique is rather the uber-bitch, eh?)  
  
SONGS:  
_The Nobodies_ by Marilyn Manson (Reminds me of the Brotherhood at times, and basically all mutant outcasts. Expect it again.) 


	6. Chapter Five: Not Scary, Just Annoying

It wasn't so hard getting around Bayville High, Rogue discovered mercifully, so long as she arrived a little early each day to increase her knowledge of the grounds and get her bearings. And she hadn't lowered herself by asking directions even once.  
  
"Oh yeah, Ah rock," she muttered sardonically, pawing through her locker for her books.  
  
But she wasn't that pleased with herself. No matter how much she tried to distance herself from Darkholme during school hours to prove her worth, she had made what people called Principal Darkholme's List of Needy Weirdos. And surprise, surprise, it included all the rest of the Brotherhood of Mutants.   
  
OK, so it wasn't actually an official list. But Darkholme always seemed to be around, checking that Rogue wasn't becoming drawn into conversations with anyone.  
  
She'd called home a couple of times, because Irene asked her to. But the conversations were becoming increasingly shorter, which agitated and wrong-footed Rogue. Why didn't Irene want to talk to her, for God's sakes? It wasn't as if she had much else to do, Irene didn't have what you'd call a full social life.  
  
Rogue had sighted the newest Needy Weirdo nearby the principal's office early that morning, a mountainous boy whose footsteps shook the floor. His name was Fred Dukes; he was the boy Mystique had mentioned who had performed in a ring. Monster truck rallies, he'd said, although he hadn't been keen to chat about his life as a sideshow attraction. He had a blank expression and a yellow mohawk. All the Needy Weirdos seemed to have odd hair- herself included. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and wondered if she ought to just take the plunge and dye it all the one colour, to stop all the stares.  
  
Meh. Forget it, the day she got rid of her streaks was the day she'd start dressing like- like Taryn Fujioka in her English class. What a DITZ. Rogue glanced at the schedule she'd taped inside her locker door and groaned inwardly. First period was English! With Taryn giggling and asking questions any idiot would answer in their sleep and Paul Millard, the loser, with a new nickname for Rogue every ten minutes. Taryn laughed like a lunatic at every one of his infantile comments, with this really peculiar shrill giggle. She thought he was hilarious. Sneering into the deeps of her locker, Rogue wondered whether Taryn had a crush on him. She WOULD.  
  
And one of the X-Men was in her class too. Scott Summers. Thinking about it, he was most likely the one Taryn wanted to get her hooks into. Rogue had been at school two weeks, right? In every English class they had together she'd notice yet another annoying quality of his. It was hilarious that she'd been there two weeks and could STILL pick out completely original annoying qualities.  
  
Like... at school he wore red sunglasses. They were so ugly to Rogue she wanted to rip them off, stuff them in his mouth and laugh outrageously as any X-Men standing in the background got fried by those lasers he had in his eyes. OK, so he had to wear them constantly to control his mutation and live a normal life, but it looked incredibly stupid. _Like he's try'n'a be a badass or somethin',_ thought Rogue.  
  
He had a stupid preppie hairstyle and stupid preppie clothes, and he sat near the front of the class when even little kids knew anywhere in the first three rows was unacceptable. He sat there looking all INVOLVED, answering any question he was asked correctly. Even though he wasn't a geek.  
  
... Oh. Yes, he was.  
  
AND he did this stupid thing with his chin whenever he was upset, sticking it out and inhaling sharply. _He should learn to loosen up, Ah could teach him a thing or two,_ Rogue thought viciously.  
  
When he was upset... like when that Jean girl blew him off. She spotted them sometimes in the halls, but more often than not she was with Duncan Matthews.  
  
Oh, Lord. Jean and the Ditz were best friends. That was really too bad, Jean was probably an airhead too, then. How Scott could be so protective of an airheaded person was beyond her, but she'd heard people commenting that he acted like her overprotective older brother. She hadn't witnessed any over protectiveness firsthand, but couldn't wait to. She'd surely find something else to laugh at.  
  
Rogue wondered what colour his eyes really were. Maybe brown. Brown would look really nice.   
  
But if she could get her way she'd make his eyes the most random colour imaginable. Yeah. Like... powder blue. She'd give him powder blue eyes, completely screw up his colouring, and make them all big and goofy. They'd cross. They'd have eyelashes so long they'd look like fakes. Except they'd be real. Rogue shook with silent laughter at the mental image.  
  
Rogue got to English first, scoring her favourite seat. She was well practiced in the fine art of picking a seat that would make you invisible to the eyes of authority. You could go the elementary school and junior high way and pick the corner seat in the back row, sitting in the shadow of the cupboard... OR you could do the smart thing and sit in the very middle of the classroom. But it was important not to sit in the first three rows. Those were reserved for the losers.  
  
"I'm going to like, take this seat," said Taryn the Ditz, sitting in the second row. _Ah rest mah case,_ Rogue thought with a sneer.  
  
The class started, and for about the first twenty minutes the students took notes. Well, not really. The Ditz and one of her clones began passing notes so obviously it wasn't even funny. Paul Millard the Loser was gazing out the window and drooling slightly. Rogue wrinkled her nose. _Ew._  
  
She flipped to a new page in the notebook she was meant to use for taking notes and started writing down a list of words that rhymed with skin, which lead to a complete song lyric.  
  
_It's in my skin  
It's in my skin  
No-one can know  
My greatest sin  
He's in my head  
Inside, I'm dead  
No-one can ever know_  
  
What a sucky lyric! _Fuck, I suck,_ thought Rogue, sneering for about the fiftieth time that day. _Hey, more poetry._ Turning her losses into jokes helped to ease them, sometimes, and distract her from the fact that in all the time she'd been writing songs she'd never actually got beyond three verses.  
  
Suddenly, the door opened and Scott Summers walked in. "Sorry, sir," he said breathlessly. It sounded like he'd been running. "I got held up. Sorry. Uh, sorry." He kept saying it as he weaved through the desks. Rogue smoothly wrote underneath her attempt at a lyric: _Annoying Quality #34- Says sorry too much.  
_  
Summers took the only empty seat, which happened to be in front of Rogue, and Rogue spent the next few minutes staring at the back of his neck. She had the weirdest urge to reach over with her pen and jab him just above his stupid button-down collar. Which reminded her...  
  
_Annoying Quality #35- He wears button-down collars._  
  
Rogue stared at the thirty-fifth annoying quality with a kind of joy, and amused herself by picking out some more.  
  
_Annoying Quality #36- He cleared his throat for about ten seconds at a stretch.  
  
Annoying Quality #37- He did it again.  
  
Annoying Quality #38- And again.  
_  
Rogue was lifted from the joy of picking out Annoying Qualities by the teacher walking through the class and distributing things to the students. Ooh. Time to pay attention. She held her notebook in her lap.  
  
"... all right, for this drama exercise you'll each be doing a scene with a partner. Since a few of you haven't chosen partners, I'll be pairing you up myself. Taryn, you and Paul are going to do Laura and Jim from _The Glass Menagerie._ And that leaves you-" (Rogue froze as she was picked out) "- and you."  
  
Summers. Rogue slouched down in her seat in irritation. _Ah'd rather jump off a fuckin' bridge than go anywhere near that traitorous preppie nothin'!  
_  
"Uh, great," Scott Summers said sarcastically. Rogue seriously considered jabbing the nib of her pen into the back of his neck. _Ah mean seriously, would anyone really care if he got poisoned?_  
  
Hmm. Someone who killed people by jabbing them with a poison-filled pen. Not a bad idea for a short story.  
  
"You two will be doing Shakespeare's _Henry the Fifth._ I've marked it. Henry and Katherine, daughter of the French King."  
  
_Joy,_ thought Rogue.  
  
The Loser sniggered. "Lots of luck, Scott. I don't think Miss Small, Dark and Sullen has ever said two words. You're gonna have to play both parts yourself, man."  
  
The majority of the class laughed, and Rogue mused on whether she'd get off on justifiable homicide charges for killing the crap out of Paul Millard.  
  
"All right, class. All right," the teacher droned boredly. _All right, all right,_ mimicked Rogue silently. _Ya sound like a damned broken record._  
  
"... get together with your scene partner and rehearse. You perform on Tuesday," the teacher said.  
  
Summers turned around to Rogue. "Uh, hey, you OK with this?"  
  
_This is it, Rogue. Time to show him what you're made of._ Rogue gave him her best glare and said in her best Ice Queen voice, "Ah'm not afraid of you."   
  
"Uh, I didn't say you should be."  
  
Rogue made a mental note that his thirty-ninth annoying quality was that he said 'uh' too much. "Just tell your weirdo friends to keep their distance this time."  
  
... And he had weirdo friends. She'd forgotten that one. Heh.  
  
She left, hearing Scott heave a dramatic sigh. "Oh, yeah. She likes you. She's just playin' hard to get," Paul said.  
  
"Shut up, Paul," Scott snapped.  
  
_Mah thoughts exactly,_ thought Rogue.  
  
A few minutes later, at her locker, she had a close encounter of the annoying kind. "Hey. Hey, uh, new girl!" called the Ditz loudly, even though she was standing at Rogue's side. She had two friends in tow.  
  
Well, at least it was a step up from Miss Short, Dark and Sullen. "Yeah?"  
  
"Aren't you like, doing that play thing with Scott Summers?" said Taryn anxiously.  
  
"Oh, so that's his name. Ah had wondered," said Rogue in an absolute monotone.  
  
"Duh," said one of her friends. "You are so lucky. He's like, FINE!"  
  
_And you're like, stupid,_ thought Rogue, and smiled just a little bit.  
  
"Scott is so incredibly charming," gushed one girl on the outskirts of the trio. This was probably her punishment for having a vocabulary that included two-syllable words.  
  
"Yeah, Scott is hot," said Taryn, nodding vociferously.  
  
Rogue wondered how to answer this. She settled for a contemptuous, though not easily detected snort.  
  
"Just remember, new girl. I've got dibs on him," the Ditz said dangerously. They turned on their collective heel and rushed off.  
  
Rogue gazed after them. "She's got DIBS on him?" she muttered finally. "How old is she again?"  
  
Because she had nothing better to do, she met up with Lance and Todd at lunch and sat at their table. She filled them in on all of Scott Summers' latest annoying qualities, but they didn't seem that interested. Then again, they started chortling about something they'd written inside the boys' bathrooms which Rogue wasn't particularly interested in, so whatever.  
  
She was brought back to the reality of the room when a loud crash and splatter jolted her awake, so to speak. "Oh mah God," she said, rolling her eyes as she saw that Fred's chair had broken under him. He tipped his table over. She couldn't help but snicker slightly, and scowled as Lance punched her on the arm to shut her up as easily as if she'd been a boy. She was all for gender equality and all but dude, that had HURT.  
  
Food went flying at Duncan Matthews' table. She knew of him, and didn't like him already. He was a poser. So Rogue felt pretty OK with his fancy letterman jacket being sprayed with food.  
  
He stood up and glared at Fred, who was lying on the ground absolutely caked in food. It seemed the whole cafeteria was holding its breath. Duncan wiped green Jell-o off his jacket. He stalked towards Fred, his buddies following. "Bad move, blob boy," he growled.  
  
"Ooh, Ah'm scared now," Rogue whispered sarcastically. Lance sneered, and Todd tittered.  
  
Fred attempted to get up, but slipped in some orange substance, which Rogue had spurned in the lunch line, thinking it looked kind of... well, wrong. By now, everyone was laughing at him.  
  
He went bright red. "Don't... laugh... at me!" he roared, and Rogue jumped as he bellowed. _Shit,_ she thought.   
  
Fred grabbed fistfuls of food and heaved them at Duncan, getting him right in the face. Duncan fell and his entourage started lobbing food at Fred. Fred snarled and screamed some more- Rogue didn't know whether to giggle or feel concerned. It just looked so stupid from where she was sitting. What ensued, however, made a thrill of fear run down her spine.  
  
"Food fight!" shrieked some random kid.  
  
And suddenly the air was thick with airborne school lunches. Rogue ducked right under the table. This looked rather stupid, but paid off because she heard the audible yelps from Todd and Lance that proved her theory: that it was better to slide under the table and have your skirt ride up than to be hit in the face with dubious-looking orange semi-edible goop.  
  
Leaving the rest of the Brotherhood boys to their own devices, Rogue made for the door. Because a pretty substantial crowd was now fleeing the cafeteria, Rogue could count on them to shield her from the food fight and was able to stand up properly as she ran out. Fixing her skirt, she stopped just clear of the door. Just for a laugh, she hung there; watching as Jean Grey fought her way toward the Blob. She was using telekinesis to deflect the food he was chucking everywhere so damn obviously Rogue didn't know why she didn't just wear a sign saying it.  
  
"Fred, stop!" shrieked Jean. She slipped on some food and careened straight into Fred. "Fred! Fred!"  
  
It suddenly occurred to Rogue, as Fred Dukes lifted a lunch table blindly over his head, that Jean Grey was probably going to get her pretty face smashed in in the next three seconds. And what really surprised her about this was that she didn't feel totally good about it.  
  
"Fred!" Jean screamed.  
  
SHATTER.  
  
Scott Summers had blasted the table by removing his shades for a moment. Fred stood there foolishly; looking bewildered at the fact that he was now only holding the table leg.  
  
"Put the table down, Fred," Jean Grey said freakishly calmly.  
  
"Jean?" stammered Fred.  
  
"You heard her, big man. But if you want to fight, try me," said Scott Summers in a steely voice. Rogue was enthralled by this display. She held her breath, grey-green eyes wide open... so anxious for him that she could feel her heartbeat in about four places at once.  
  
He didn't seem afraid one tiny bit. It was so cool. And he WAS being all protective, but for some reason Rogue couldn't classify this as a new annoying quality. It was just... really, really cool.  
  
"Back off, Scott. I'll handle this," Jean Grey said to him as Fred prepared to strike out with the table leg. To Fred, Jean said, "Everything's fine, isn't it, Fred?"  
  
Fred seemed very agitated. "They shouldn't'a laughed at me!"  
  
Jean Grey flinched when he raised his voice and hurriedly said, "No! No, they shouldn't." To Summers, Jean said, "Uh- Scott, don't you have to get to class or something?"  
  
Summers began to take his leave. "I'll be close if you need me. Real close." Rogue let out her breath and silently died from embarrassment when she realised it sounded like a dreamy sigh. She backed away from the door, her hand over her heart, and struggled to compose herself. It was fine. Summers and Grey hadn't been slaughtered.  
  
... Although it would have been kind of cool to see them get really pounded by the latest Needy Weirdo. Heh, heh.  
  
Jean Grey said something, which Rogue didn't catch. Rogue just stayed absolutely still and waited for Summers to emerge. She wanted to yell herself stupid at him for picking a fight with someone three times his size. How stupid could you be? Didn't he damn well realise he could have been really hurt?  
  
Even though all the exasperated fire inside her didn't fade one bit, as he appeared it turned into- into something else. She had the weirdest urge to give the big stupid idiot a massive hug. Somehow... she ended up saying admiringly, "Wow! Ya'll really look out for each other, don't you?"  
  
He looked at her. "Yeah. Yeah, we do that."  
  
Like the worst of teachers are wont to do, Darkholme materialised seemingly out of thin air. Looming over Rogue and Scott Summers like the Principal of Darkness, she boomed, "What's going on here?"  
  
Never in her life had Rogue found that sentence so unnerving. "Nothing," she said quickly, pointedly avoiding Summers' eyes.  
  
Summers took over. "Um, we were just talking, Principal Darkholme."  
  
Darkholme thinned her mouth. That was probably something they'd taught to every female student at teachers' college a million years ago when Darkholme was there. To the men, they taught the sharp-inhaling-and-sticking-out-chin thing.  
  
Hmm. Rogue wondered sarcastically if Summers was considering a career in teaching.  
  
"Then you had best stop your talking and get to class! Have I made myself clear?" she snapped.  
  
Rogue felt guilty. Darkholme was going out of her way to keep an eye on Rogue and the X-Men and all Rogue did was think bitchy thoughts about how Darkholme's mouth went when she was annoyed. If Principal Darkholme didn't do this, Rogue probably wouldn't have been alive at the end of her first week!  
  
Although there was the pressing matter of why she'd even been put in the same school as the X-Men anyway. She'd have preferred to go back to Berridge High, at least there was a minimum of bloodthirsty adolescent mutant assassins there...  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said Rogue dutifully.  
  
She began to creep away, determined to show Darkholme that her safety was not being compromised in any way.  
  
But that DICK Summers had to yell after her, "Hey, don't forget, in the park after school! And bring the playbook with you!"  
  
Rogue cringed and grunted to show that she heard, but couldn't care less. _Annoyin' Quality Number Forty is DEFINITELY his bad timin'! _she thought angrily.  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: _X-Men Evolution_ does not belong to yours truly. It belongs to the WB, Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, whoever you like.  
  
NOTES: I saw the film _Peter Pan_ just the other day. I totally loved that book when I was little. I liked Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens too, which I suppose is the prequel. If I had been just a tiny bit older I probably would have bawled my eyes out at the bit where Peter (having run away to live with the fairies in Kensington Gardens) returns to the window of his nursery (flying, naturally) only to find the window shut and his parents within, hugging and kissing their new baby boy. You see, they've forgotten all about him. And he cries and bangs on the window, pleading for them to let him in, but they can't hear him, so he leaves the nursery window and never returns again. However, as a child I was even more of a cold, heartless cow than I am now, so I didn't cry at that scene so much as sit around mourning.  
  
I liked the film adaptation of _Peter Pan._ All these girls at my school think Jeremy Sumpter (who plays Peter Pan) is hot, which in my humble opinion is a bit disgusting considering he plays the Boy who Never Grows Up. He makes a pretty pathetic pin-up in my eyes unless you happen to be a complete paedophile. The friendship (and dare I say, romance) between Peter and Wendy was very sweetly depicted, and Jason Isaacs was great as Mr Darling. I was just cracking up. And I also liked Tiger Lily; she gave me a real laugh. John and Tiger Lily making flirty eyes at each other was a real- well, a crack-up, I suppose. :) The cinematography was very pretty- the scenery, etc.  
  
... Can you tell that my future Dream Job to Fall Back On (if I should fail at being a bestselling author, which is my Ultimate Dream Job) is a film critic? Heh, heh. In my author's notes I'm probably going to spend a lot of my time droning on about my interests. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't care if you think my taste bites.  
  
Ooooh, guess what? I don't know if Weezer is a mainstream band in the US (as I'm an Aussie... well, technically I'm an Aussie who was born in England and emigrated when I was four, so I have a really peculiar approximation of an Australian accent because of being around my English parents and... things) but if you can, dear readers, try and get hold of their song _In The Garage_. Or at least look at the lyrics, because you'll find a very pleasant X-Men surprise in the first verse. Plus the song couldn't be more kick-ass if it tried, but that's not the point.  
  
I don't know how to explain the fact that Rogue is in an English class with Duncan, Scott, Paul and Taryn. 'Cause in _Untouchable_-verse, in this particular chapter, Rogue is nearly sixteen. (She's gunna have her birthday in the _Speed and Spyke_ chapter.) Maybe the Ditz, the Loser, the Poser (Duncan, ya dig?) and, erm, Scott are all just really dumb, eh?

Oh, and atormcloud3: I'm afraid The Hermione Granger Fan Club isn't actually a real club. See, when I joined this site years ago I had about a million names I wanted to use, but I couldn't pick one. All the names reflected different sides of my personality and different interests of mine, so to pick just one felt... weird. Like favouritism. So I decided on The Hermione Granger Fan Club and made all the different names into the members. You're not the first person who's asked to join, actually. :)


	7. Chapter Six: Angel?

Ugh. Natural light. Rogue grimaced up into the air. Natural light and leaves, and CHILDREN. Ewwww...  
  
_What am Ah doin' here?_ she thought in disgust.   
  
She could think of a hundred places she'd rather be than the park, ready to rehearse a duologue with Scott Summers. Seriously. She'd gone through them in her head during fifth period and written them down for posterity.  
  
There he was. He already had his playbook open, reading. His lips moved silently as he memorised his lines. Rogue moved over to the picnic table where he sat. "Hey," she said shortly.  
  
"Hey, uh, Rogue," said Summers coolly. "Sit down."  
  
_Ah should start keepin' a tally of how many times he says 'uh' in a day,_ thought Rogue irritably, sitting down opposite him.  
  
"I wish we could have gone someplace quieter to rehearse," he said, frowning ever so slightly.  
  
"Ah don't," Rogue replied. "Out here in th'open, Ah'll be able to see any freak friends of yours coming from a lot further away."  
  
He scowled and she smirked her head off at him. Summers muttered, "Let's start, shall we?"  
  
A little while passed. "... do you like me, Kate?" Summers was reciting.  
  
_Nah. Fix your hair and get rid of those goofy shades, Summers, and Ah might possibly begin to think about maybe considering it happening in the distant future,_ thought Rogue nastily.  
  
In her best French accent, Rogue replied aloud, "_Pardonnez-moi?_ Ah cannot tell what is 'like me'."  
  
Humph. _Ah wonder if the English teacher matched these up by personality for kicks?_ Rogue thought. This sounded suspiciously like an actual conversation she and Summers might have. Except she'd been skipping ahead and found some lines that would never appear in the play of Rogue's life.  
  
Earnestly, Summers said, "An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel."  
  
For a second there it felt like her heart stopped- except, she rationalised, if it had she'd be dead.  
  
_Geez, does he have to look so intense?_ thought Rogue, more helplessly than in annoyance.  
  
He kept wrong-footing her with the sappy declarations of love. If he had been like anyone else, rattling off each word in a bored monotone, she could have rolled her eyes and tapped the toe of her boot on the ground and repeatedly interrupted him to ask him the time. But he seemed very serious, and somehow that prompted her into trying to match his line readings.  
  
He was- a pretty good actor. His voice changed when he read aloud, it became more mellow and yet more controlled. His stance was more relaxed too.  
  
The whole angel thing could not have been less like her. It was ridiculous. She felt like she was going to-  
  
Rogue looked at him and started to giggle weakly at his expense. "The girls're right. You are a charmer," she said teasingly. It was the first time in ages she'd tried to joke with anyone.  
  
If she had been able to see his eyes, she would have seen that this remark was making him squirm. "Look, I'm just reading the lines, OK?" He was surprisingly hostile for a stupid joke.  
  
_Can't he take a joke?_ she thought sourly. _Ya wouldn't guess it, but he's as prickly as me. Or maybe Ah just have a rotten sense of humour. Ah dunno.  
_  
"Yeah, Ah know," she said meekly. Summers looked relieved and she felt like punching him. Stupid preppie. Couldn't take a compliment, couldn't recognise a joke. _RELAX, for Chrissakes,_ she thought irritably.  
  
_Ah mean, he's supposed to be so nice and sweet to girls, they all love him. What for? He's just interested in gettin' through this an' goin' home. AH don't wanna be here either, but Ah'm try'n'a make the best of it. Imagine if the Ditz could see her hero now. She'd freak.  
_  
He of all people couldn't understand what was going on with her. Now more than ever, Rogue was barred from trying to make friends with the people around her. All his power restricted him from doing was taking off those ugly shades. And yeah, it made him look like a poser but at least he could LIVE.  
  
Oh, she hated him and all his kind so badly.   
  
"It's just- sometimes, Ah wish..." Rogue began in quiet dignity, and stopped, because the next words she knew would come from her mouth made her sound...  
  
Weak.  
  
"Yeah? Wish what?" His voice sounded gentler now. She grudgingly acknowledged how girls could run around after him, punching each other in the rush to be first. The guy wasn't exactly ugly. He might have had preppie hair and preppie clothes and tried to kill her and all... but he had an OK face if you looked at it from a certain angle. A very OK face.  
  
"Wish... Ah could get close to somebody." _Anybody,_ thought Rogue silently. It was bad enough that everyone else had years more friend-making experience, but now she was at a new school in a different state. People laughed at her even more because they hadn't known her and her eccentricities as long as everyone at Berridge High back home.  
  
He looked sympathetic, and she wondered idly if he could read her thoughts. She didn't really care.  
  
"But y'know what happens when Ah do," said Rogue sadly.  
  
He was nodding. It was strange to her that he'd put up with this. She looked at him, feeling an odd kind of tolerance, and Rogue opened her mouth slightly to ask him what colour his eyes were.  
  
BAMF.  
  
With the odd noise came a sulphuric scent and a rather cliche puff of black smoke, all of which ballooned from the middle of the table as one of Summers' group, Kurt Wagner, appeared out of thin air. Rogue reeled back in surprise.  
  
"Woo! Tender moment here? Sorry to interrupt," he said in a jaunty tone that suggested he couldn't have been less sorry if he had tried.  
  
She glared. "Ah swear, he's like an annoyin' little brother," Rogue snapped. Wagner stuck his tongue out at her in true annoying little brother fashion.  
  
"What's the problem?" asked Summers pleasantly.  
  
"Jean's been nabbed!" Kurt Wagner said urgently.  
  
Scott's eyes practically popped, it was not an attractive look one bit. Definitely qualified as a new Annoying Quality. "What?" he yelled, grabbing Wagner by the front of his goofy X-Men uniform.  
  
... This wasn't so much an annoying quality as an undecided one. Summers was sort of fun to watch when he went all angry and stuff.  
  
"Whoa, easy on the exquisite costume, _mein freund_!" capitulated Wagner. "Wolverine's on the scent, but I'm supposed to collect you."  
  
Summers released the younger boy and pounded his fists on the table. Rogue averted her eyes, praying to the Powers That Be that none of the Brotherhood were involved. Because if they were, Rogue was outnumbered just a little bit by two pissed X-Men... and there was no-one around to help her.  
  
God, what was she getting so worked up about? All she'd have to do would be to punch them in the face and they'd go down in a second, provided she took off her glove first. And it wasn't like she was scared of them or anything.  
  
"Blob!" snarled Scott Summers.  
  
_Shit!_ thought Rogue, trying not to breathe too loudly in case he remembered she, a Brotherhood girl, was there.  
  
"If he's hurt her, I'll-" blustered Summers. Rogue peeked at him through her hair. _Don'tlookatmedon'tlookatmedon'tlookatme._  
  
Summers scowled at her. "You know anything about this?" he asked savagely.   
  
Oh, God, what was she so damned afraid of? He was such a loser it wasn't even funny. "No. And even if Ah did, Ah wouldn't tell you." She pounded her fists on the table, making fun of him.  
  
"Then I hope you can live with your conscience," said Summers, sticking out his chin and inhaling sharply. For some reason Rogue felt so pissed off with him she didn't even crack a smile at how stupid it looked.  
  
_Don't ya DARE talk to me about a conscience. You tried to fuckin' kill me, you bastard!_ Rogue glared at the ground. She'd say it to him one day, and then she'd break his face. _Just not today,_ she thought. _It'll always just be one more day 'til Ah do it.  
_  
"Teleporter to maximum, Mr. Wagner," said Summers, grabbing onto Wagner's shoulder.  
  
"Aye, Captain!" yelled Wagner with a big grin.  
  
"Engage." They disappeared, leaving Rogue choking on the after-effects of the teleport.  
  
"Yuck," she said sulkily as soon as she knew she was alone. "Ah'd better not have sulphur stuff all over mah face otherwise that blue demon's gonna have hell to pay."  
  
She went through her backpack and brought out her notebook, which she decided would be used exclusively for song lyrics and documenting Scott Summers' Annoying Qualities. Rogue added a few more that she'd noticed just then and grinned in delight when she found she'd written down over fifty things which annoyed her about him.  
  
_Annoying Quality #51- He spends just way too much time trailing around after Jean Grey,_ she wrote. _This could mean one of, oh, three things. 1: he's gay. 2: they really are brother and sister or 3: she's the only one who'll put up with him. It's probably a combination of at least two of those things. I mean, who would ever put up with him when they didn't have to? He's such a suck.  
_  
So Fred had Jean, did he? Now, she mustn't jump to conclusions. It was only Summers who'd said that, anyway, and since when did she listen to the likes of him? God, she hated him. Rogue hated his insufferable nature, the way he KNEW things and the way he tricked everyone into thinking he was such a charming, mature boy when really he was a foul, egotistical prick. What did he feel when he looked at her? What did any of them feel, she wondered. They'd tried to kill her, so when they looked at her did they just see an animal ready for slaughter? A real person? Or did they feel nothing at all?  
  
Yes, he was the most annoying of all the X-Geeks, but Jean Grey ran a close second. Rogue had been at Bayville High for two measly weeks and already she'd heard more about Grey than she could ever stomach. Boys adored her for absolutely no reason. It would have been kind of funny if Jean was exactly like Taryn, vapid and immature and silly. The thing was, Jean Grey was clever, shrewd and somewhat insightful. And psychic, so you couldn't get much more clued-in than that. God, how typical.  
  
Huh. Fred most likely had a crush on her. It made her feel almost bad for him, because Jean Grey would absolutely break his heart, no doubt about that.  
  
But back to Scott Summers. She hated the way he just assumed things about her, just because of the group she'd joined and the way she dressed and the one time she'd ever tried to joke with him. How dare he insinuate that she'd withhold information as important as where a kidnapper was hiding.  
  
... Er. Well. The thing was... Rogue did have a small, probably entirely incorrect idea of where Fred may have taken Grey. Rogue and the Brotherhood boys had gone out into town to buy their groceries. They'd gone through an industrial part of town where the boys had indulged in a little graffiti. Rogue had gone off for a wander and come back to find the boys sniggering as they put on the finishing touches.  
  
_"Whaddya think?" Lance said, grinning rather evilly. He gestured grandly at their crude artwork.  
  
Rogue made a point of looking up and beyond him, at a deserted branch of the ironworks her group had been spray painting. "Romantic buildin'."  
  
"What?" asked Lance, looking at Rogue as if she was insane.  
  
"Well, you know," she said sarcastically. "All the dark and stuff. Great makeout spot, y'know?" She snickered and put her hands on her hips. "Ah'm beat, let's go home."  
  
"You're one seriously twisted chick," said Todd as he, Rogue and Lance began to walk back toward the Jeep. "C'mon, Fred!" he yelled. Fred had just looked silently up at the building.  
_  
It was totally ridiculous. Fred wouldn't take her joke seriously and think it was a good place to begin a courtship. Nobody could be that gullible.  
  
Only thing was, she remembered Irene telling her wisely that, "... the thing you have to remember about boys, Rogue, is that ninety per cent of the ones you'll meet in your life are as slow as- as-"  
  
"Your typical episode of _Dawson's Creek_?" Rogue had quipped.  
  
...  
  
Fred was more than definitely inside the old ironworks trying to put the moves on Jean Grey, then. And Summers would charge in trying to be all heroic and get himself crippled by Fred.  
  
"Ugh. Ah'd better go along and make sure he doesn't hurt himself," she mumbled with an eye-roll. The strange thing was that Rogue didn't know whether she was talking about Fred Dukes... or Scott Summers.  
  
It took Rogue twenty-five minutes at a steady jog to reach the ironworks area and as soon as she approached the building she knew her hunch had been right. Scott Summers lay prone on the ground outside. _God, Summers, you dick,_ she thought in exasperation.

Hesitantly, she removed a glove, put it into her skirt pocket, leaned down and touched his forehead.  
  
"... you're the worst. You pretended to be my friend!" Fred was bellowing at Jean. He threw a cabinet at her, and she stopped it mere inches from her face. She set it down with a defiant clunk beside her.  
  
With a low, enraged growl, Fred left the room briefly and returned toting a huge piece of metal equipment. Rogue fired one of Summers' optic blasts from behind, hitting Fred in the back.  
  
"Leave her alone, ya yahoo!" yelled Rogue. Her eyes burned- how did Summers put up with it the whole time? _Now Rogue,_ she thought, _don't get carried away. You're here to remove him and make a getaway. No heroics, 'K?  
_  
Fred glowered at her. "Whatcha gonna do to me? Make me wear bad makeup?"  
  
... Oh, that was it. He was going down.  
  
"Didn't Mystique tell ya what mah power is?" she demanded.  
  
"No, 'cause I don't care!" Fred bellowed defiantly.  
  
Rogue's arm shot out and she grabbed hold of his arm roughly. "Mah power is your power and Ah can take more than one!" she snapped.  
  
She flung Fred into the air as easily as if he had been a piece of paper. Then Rogue blasted him again. He landed with an earth shattering crash in a pile of rubble. It seemed to take Fred hours to emerge, but when he did he was laughing. "I got too much power, even for you! You can't hurt me; I'm the Blob!"  
  
Rogue shook her head. "Nah, you're just garbage that wanted a date. Now, tell you what, Ah'm takin' you out!"  
  
Fred started for Rogue, and she saw there was craziness in his eyes that had not been there before. He hated not getting respect.  
  
_Well, screw respectin' him._ Eyes widened, she blasted him through the ceiling. Dust rained down, and she heard his babbled yells of rage as he landed in the stinking garbage dump behind the steelworks building. Rogue had a great urge to yell after him, 'And Ah do not wear bad makeup!' but resisted this urge as Jean Grey made a weak choking noise from behind her. Oh, yeah. Grey.  
  
She went behind her and narrowed her eyes at the metal pipe twisted around Grey's body, binding her to the chair. "If you wanna get outta this unhurt, don't move a muscle," said Rogue, preparing to fire a fine blast of energy at the pipe.  
  
"Rogue, why?" asked Jean softly.  
  
"Ya wanna lose your wrists?" Rogue asked scathingly. Jean shut up, and Rogue blasted the pipe so it broke in two. The force of the blast made the chair tip over. Pulling her glove out of her pocket and pulling it on again, Rogue hauled Jean to her feet. "Now, get outta here an' take Summers and the other guy with ya, OK? Ah need ta get back to the boardin' house before- before..." She faltered and looked through the open bay doors of the steelworks building as a van pulled up and various X-Men piled out. "Aw, _fuck,_" she whispered, eyes widening. Again, Rogue was hopelessly outnumbered.  
  
Jean gave her a strange look and rushed out to meet the X-Men where they stood. She was speaking at a fast pace to a bald man in a wheelchair, and Rogue heard the words, "It was Rogue, Professor, it was all Rogue. She- it was so-" Jean seemed at a loss for words. She was smiling, the bitch. She'd probably be smiling when all the X-Men set in on Rogue.  
  
_Thanks a bunch,_ thought Rogue, standing like a deer in headlights. She tried to creep out of the steelworks but hung back when she heard a commotion. Summers and the wolf guy were waking up.  
  
Summers had his fists right against his eyes. "Where's my visor?" he called. "I dropped it, where'd it go?"  
  
"Where's Rogue?" Wagner asked aloud.  
  
"She's hiding," Grey said in exasperation.  
  
_Shows just how much you know,_ Rogue thought reproachfully. Rogue heaved a deep sigh and, mentally berating herself for being so completely and utterly stupid, she stepped out of the shadows. "Ah am not hidin'," she said pointedly. "And Ah know where your guy's visor is." She jogged away to where he'd first been lying, and after a few moments of searching in the weeds around the doorway of the steelworks building she located his visor.  
  
Returning to them, she held Summers' visor in her hands. It was strangely heavy; it felt odd that he'd wear it whenever he went into battle. He managed to hold his head so high, shouldn't the weight drag him down?  
  
... Hmmph. 'Went into battle.' What a stupid expression to use for a group of teenagers.  
  
And they WERE teenagers, underneath it all. It didn't matter that they had the power in them to take on things greater than themselves. It didn't matter that they could fight and win, that they were strong and dedicated and good. They were young. In that moment Rogue wondered why she hated and feared them and had to remind herself that they had tried to kill her.  
  
Rogue put the visor on him, trying to be gentle. "There ya go. Ah only took a short-term dose of your power, you should be back to normal soon," said Rogue tenderly. After taking his powers she felt a kind of affection for him and, for the moment, didn't try to squash it.  
  
Summers looked up at her, expressionless. With warmth in his voice, he quoted, "You are like an angel, Kate."  
  
For the second time that day she felt like her heart stopped for a second there, taking time out from its busy schedule to do a backflip of joy. But what was the point? She stood there- small, dark and sullen- frowning.  
  
"Mah name's not Kate... and Ah'm no angel," she told him, trying to say it lightly but having her voice drain away with emotion.  
  
"But you helped us. Why?" asked Jean Grey.  
  
_Oh, do Ah have to have a friggin' reason for everything?_ Rogue thought in disgust. The face she let the X-Men see was a frightened one. In actuality, she had no idea why she had saved them. If there were less X-Men, well, there were fewer things to haunt her late at night.  
  
"Ah don't know. Ah just don't know." Rogue turned on her heel and ran off. Nothing could stop her now, not even Jean Grey calling out to her.  
  
Rogue walked a long time, her mind choking on memories and thoughts which were not hers. Rogue would smile or even giggle at one moment, then sulk and frown at others. She didn't know which emotions belonged to Scott or Fred, because they definitely weren't hers. She walked oddly too, at times like she felt uncomfortable in a greatly diminished form. Rogue looked at her dying shadow on the ground and almost laughed. She was walking like a guy, even though she was wearing a short skirt.   
  
She didn't want to go home.  
  
Rogue considered just sleeping outdoors that night, she was so desperate not to return to the Brotherhood Boarding House. She fleetingly considered running away, even. She knew in her heart that no matter what ties they claimed she had to them, they would absolutely beat her up the moment she walked through the door. God, she'd hurt Fred. She'd hurt a member of her own team. And all he'd done was insult her makeup. She couldn't have gotten that worked up over makeup. It had to be something else that had made her so reckless as to attack Fred and side with the X-Men, but what?  
  
It was nighttime when she reached the street the boarding house was on, and she wiped her eyes furiously on her sleeve as she stared, feeling helpless, at the ominous dark shape that was her home. She couldn't bring herself to go inside. Rogue felt miserable and wished to God she could go back to Caldecot County, and Irene.  
  
She hadn't called Irene that day. Rogue really missed her. She'd never had the experience of not being able to go home before and she hated it. She felt tears begin to come and she kicked the kerb so hard that her toes curled up inside her combat boots. "Ah am NOT gonna cry!" she hissed.   
  
Rogue stood across the street from the Brotherhood Boarding House for a whole twenty-five minutes. She knew Fred would have gotten back before her, and that he would have told the other boys his own version of events. Hopefully, she stared to see if any of the lights would go out in the downstairs rooms. None did.  
  
It would be OK. It wasn't as if she could get hurt by anyone- all she would have to do would be to touch them and they'd be out cold. She'd just sleep in the backseat of the Jeep that night. It would be OK, it would, it would...  
  
Rogue froze with shock as a piercing howl poisoned the night air. She looked up and saw a massive dark shape with terrible yellow eyes and jagged jaws coming at her out of the darkness. All of her little-girl night terrors came back to her in a rush, and with a scream she ran full-pelt up the driveway to the porch, and started banging on the front door. "LET ME IN!" she yelled, and heard approaching footsteps on the other side of the door.  
  
The animal seemed to have disappeared, and Rogue suddenly remembered why it was that she had been out on the street. _What am Ah DOIN'?_ she thought, panicking, and started to move away from the door. When it swung open with a crash and light poured into her eyes, she was suddenly so disoriented she tripped down the front steps and landed on her ass.  
  
Lance looked very ominous as he stared down at her. "Rogue?" he asked finally. She winced.  
  
"Lance," she replied weakly, waving. She shrieked with alarm as he bounded down the stairs, snatched hold of her arm and dragged her kicking and yelling into the Brotherhood Boarding House.  
  
"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" he screamed. He slammed her against the wall, making sure she couldn't use her hands. Rogue struggled futilely, but he was a lot stronger than she was.  
  
A mutinous-looking Fred and Todd materialised out of the living room, but Mystique was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Ah- Ah was-" she stammered.  
  
"That wasn't cool, Rogue," said Todd, glaring. "Not cool one bit." Had this been any other time Rogue might have snickered at the hackneyed nature of Todd's words, but now she was speechless from shock.  
  
Or not. Finding her voice, Rogue managed to snarl, "Lemme go!"  
  
"You HELPED the X-Men!" Fred roared. "You helped 'em, Rogue!"  
  
_Ah should've spat in Lance's face,_ she thought later. Rogue let them yell for a few moments. Then in a cold, dangerous voice oddly like Mystique's, she said, "You better let me go and let me explain, or so help me-"  
  
"We don't have to do anythin'!"  
  
"Mystique'll be pissed if she finds out you guys been threatenin' me," said Rogue flatly.  
  
Todd snickered. "She was the one who told us to try an' get it out of you, Rogue."  
  
Rogue turned her head away, seemingly overcome by emotion and Lance relaxed his grip slightly. It was in this way that Rogue managed to work off one of her gloves. She wrenched her hand free with a sudden burst of strength and held it up. Fred and Todd backed away like vampires avoiding the cross, but quick as a flash Lance grabbed Rogue and forced her arm up from behind, at the elbow. He was careful not to touch her hand.  
  
Rogue hesitated. Lance might be a thug, but he was smart with it. And she didn't really want to hurt him. _Ah'm in deep enough shit,_ she thought grimly.  
  
Turning so he could see her face, she said with her gaze lowered, "Just try layin' a hand on me. Be mah guest. We'll see what happens!" Rogue hadn't been so scared since the night in Caldecot County when the X-Men had tried to kill her, but she met his gaze. "Ah- Ah dare ya, Lance." She tried to change it into a joke.  
  
Lance went a shade of red unheard of in Bayville. He let go of Rogue in disgust. "You ain't worth my time, Rogue. Don't think we're trusting you again."  
  
He started to stomp away. Rogue knew she should just keep her mouth shut... but she didn't. "Ya'll are the stupidest people Ah've ever seen in mah life," she muttered.  
  
Lance wheeled around. "WE'RE stupid?"  
  
"Yeah," snarled Rogue, temper flaring. "Yeah, you're stupid! Ah go along to- to remove our new guy from a whole nest of th' X-Men and all Ah get is abuse. All that- that's all the thanks Ah get for savin' him? When you mess with one of the X-Men you mess with all the fuckin' X-Men. Do you guys listen to Mystique at all?"  
  
"Get upstairs," said Lance quietly.  
  
"Yeah, get upstairs, little Rogue," growled Fred.  
  
Rogue carried on recklessly. "Keep away from the X-Men, that's all Ah'm sayin'. Even if you're hot for one of the girls, FRED."  
  
Fred blanched, then glowered, "Hey, wait a second-"  
  
"GET UPSTAIRS!" Lance yelled. The hallway shook and Rogue was silenced as she was pitched forward onto her hands and knees.  
  
"OK," she said from the floor. "Ah'm goin' upstairs. But not 'cause you tell me to, understand?" Rogue shot up the stairs and to her room before he could react.  
  
When she got to her bedroom she sank onto the floor and did not move for awhile. She heard the boys retiring to bed, and it was only when she changed into her own nightclothes that there came a knock on the door. "Who's that?" called Rogue guardedly, clenching her fists in readiness.  
  
"It's me." Mystique. Rogue wasn't so much scared of her now as confused.  
  
"Oh. C'mon in, then."  
  
Mystique walked into the room and stood with her hands on her hips. Rogue heard the wind in the trees outdoors- from then on, she would always associate the slightly sinister sound with Mystique.  
  
"I don't want you to carry on with the X-Men again, Rogue. You know how dangerous they are."  
  
"Yeah, Ah know. Ah got carried away, all Ah meant to do was get Fred outta there... you were the dog outside, weren't ya? The one that chased me up to the house."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Rogue, I know you. Better than you think, actually. You know how to keep out of trouble at the best of times. You would have probably slept outdoors rather than go inside and be beaten up by the boys. You took their abuse well, Rogue. I was impressed. But then again, I know you can handle that sort of thing... dear."  
  
Rogue scowled. "Ah'm not afraid of them, y'know. But why'd ya chase me back inside?"  
  
"Because you need to be in here, with your team. We're your family now."  
  
"Ah left mah backpack at the scene. The steelworks, y'know? It had mah notebook in it. Ah wanna go back and get it tomorrow."  
  
Mystique sighed. "I'll drive you to get it."  
  
"Thank you," said Rogue quietly.  
  
"What do you write in your notebook, then?" asked Mystique curiously.  
  
"Just stuff. Ideas for songs, and everythin' that annoys me about Summers. There's over fifty separate things and Ah've only been in his English class two weeks." Rogue smiled.  
  
Mystique frowned. "Scott Summers?"  
  
"Yeah. Ah started noticin' him, all that stuff about him ages ago."  
  
Mystique frowned some more. "Right. Well. I'll drive you to get your backpack tomorrow. Now get some sleep, it's nearly one in the morning."  
  
"OK. 'Night, Mystique."  
  
Rogue curled up in her bed. Mystique didn't leave right away. As Rogue drifted off, she could have sworn she heard Mystique mutter, "Scott Summers..."  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: _X-Men: Evolution_ ain't mine. It belongs to the WB, Marvel Comics, Stan Lee, whoever you like. If it did belong to me there'd probably be much more bad language on the show, me having a mouth like a sewer and all...  
  
NOTES: Note on the soundtrack- songs for the Scoguish romantic elements are going to be, you know, sweet and more innocent and longing. Like an unrequited crush, d'accord? When I finally get around to the Romy (which will probably be in about ten million years considering how slowly I write and how much I have to get done, but OH WELL!) the songs will be more... well, kick-ass and funny and love-hate type'a thing.  
  
Um, thank you, ishandahalf, for your insightful sarcastic piss-take/liking of my rambly notes. I'm not sure which, because I'm not entirely sure whether you were being sarcastic or not. But it was very funny/nice of you to say.  
  
I don't know why I have Rogue write in a notebook. My Rogue doesn't aspire to be a writer, not even a songwriter... but I just like the idea of that notebook choc-a-block with depressing song lyrics, weird observations and The Annoying Qualities of Scott Summers.  
  
Oh God... my horrible exams start tomorrow. Three days of horror. Expect the next chapter at the weekend, OK?  
  
SONGS:  
_I'm No Angel_ by Dido (Try playing it just after you hear the random quoting of "You are like an angel, Kate." It fits dead end well.)  
_Sweet Misery_ by Michelle Branch (I like this as a one-sided Scogue anthem.)


	8. Chapter Seven: Finally Sixteen

"Yo, Rogue!" yelled Todd as he hopped painfully obviously over to Rogue's locker.  
  
She winced at his lack of effort at concealing his abilities and hissed, "What is it?"  
  
"The X-Geeks have a new stooge on their side, wanna go check it out?"  
  
"What for? You've already seen 'em."  
  
"I meant for you to see 'em, Rogue," said Todd, leaning against the lockers.  
  
Rogue slammed her locker. "They're all the same." Rogue hadn't actually told any of the Brotherhood boys that the X-Men had tried to kill her back in Caldecot County. She knew they'd probably do something stupid, like go and pick a fight with them on her behalf. As if she couldn't fight her own battles.  
  
Things were almost back to normal with the boys. They seemed to have grudgingly forgiven her for her betrayal, and Rogue knew she could never pull a stunt like that again. Not if she wanted to finish high school with all her limbs. Next time Ah'm faced with that sorta situation, she told herself firmly, Ah'm just gonna be a good Brotherhood chick, go "Hellyeah." and lend a hand at kickin' th' X-Men's asses. Yeah.  
  
She had settled into a comfortable little routine with each of the boys, and particularly with Mystique. Mystique was the only Brotherhood member she was really bothered about. In her Darkholme guise, she drove Rogue to school every morning. Whenever they ran into each other at home, they'd talk. It was strange to Rogue how Mystique spoke to her at the same time as if she were an adult, but also with a kind of affection and respect.  
  
Todd shrugged. "Well, it's a black kid. Freshman. Name's Daniels."  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes at the vague description. "And who told ya he was one of th' X-Men?" asked Rogue curiously.  
  
"Nobody. I just put two an' two together when I saw all them."  
  
"Ah doubt you'd be able to add even that, Toad," said Rogue nastily. "Ah think Ah'm gonna pass on goin' to English- class is full of geeks anyhow."  
  
"OK. Gettin' a ride home with us?"  
  
"Duh, Ah'm hardly walkin' all that way. If Ah'm not there when all of ya are, tell 'em Ah'm just comin'. And don't ya dare get slime on mah seat in the Jeep, Todd. Ah'll see ya later." Rogue waved jauntily and moved off.  
  
There weren't really many interesting places to skip class at Bayville High, so Rogue usually spent what classes she ditched in the girls' bathroom. Rogue had been ditching as many English classes as possible. It wasn't because she was scared of Summers or anything. No, she just couldn't handle the excess losers in her class. The Loser, the Poser, the Ditz, the Loser's sappy new girlfriend Pinky Edmond and Summers all in the one class? Forget it.  
  
Rogue ducked into the start of class to answer to her name at the roll. Then after five minutes she put up her hand and asked if she could be excused to use the bathroom. She tried her best to look pale (not too difficult given the huge amounts of makeup she wore) and ill, as if she had very bad cramps. The teacher gave her a very dubious look, but when Rogue gave a small groan as if she were seconds from throwing up he finally sighed and allowed her to go.  
  
As Rogue got up and busily arranged her things to hide her notebook, which was dense with her writing, she made brief eye contact with Summers. Smirking rather wickedly at his disapproving look, she gave him a single disconcerting wink as she left the room, still pulling her 'pale and ill' impersonation. God, she thought, slightly perturbed. Where the hell'd that come from? Who am Ah again, a hooker?  
  
Still, Ah love gettin' Summers all incensed. Ah love seein' that fantastic expression on his face when he sees Ah'm doin' something bad, even if it's just somethin' little like skippin' English. He's such a goody-good he practically hyperventilates when he sees me struttin' outta class all nonchalant-like. And Ah love doin' it to him. Ah love messin' with his mind. It's only fair Ah should get to pay him back for what his group did to me, after all. Rogue grinned as she walked down the hallway and swerved smoothly into the girls' bathroom.  
  
She spent the next twenty minutes in the girls' bathroom, just sitting on the sinks and ducking into a stall whenever she heard anyone come along. Rogue was taken quite by surprise when the door opened and a boy stuck his head inside the room. Seeing Rogue, he mumbled something (looking rather alarmed) and tried to make a hasty escape.  
  
"Hey!" she yelled, sliding off the sinks onto her feet and rushing after him. "Hey, kid!"  
  
He turned around, looking rather uncomfortable. "I- they don't make the door signs that clear here, do they?"  
  
"That's convincin'," Rogue snorted. "Ah'll let it slide just this once, but this is the girls' bathroom, if ya don't mind."  
  
The boy sighed. "I'm new. I didn't know, I'm sorry."  
  
"Fine, then. So, why're ya out durin' class?"  
  
"I was trying to find the guys' bathroom."  
  
Rogue raised her eyebrows. "And you were takin' a well-deserved break from this hellhole?"  
  
The boy grinned rather guiltily. "Yeah, that too."  
  
"What's y'name?" asked Rogue, hands on her hips.  
  
"Evan. I'm a freshman. What's yours?"  
  
"You'll find out soon enough. So, how long've ya been here?"  
  
"Since last week."  
  
"Do ya like it?" If Rogue were in any other frame of mind, she'd have pulled a few strings with Darkholme and gotten Evan a mean couple of detentions for intruding into the girls' bathroom, even if it was between classes when nobody but her was in there. But right then, she felt accommodating.  
  
Maybe it was that part annoyed, part amused look Summers had given her as she'd successfully left the English classroom. It made her feel like- shudder- being nice to people. But that ain't somethin' Ah want spread around town, thought Rogue ruefully. The boys'd think Ah was goin' soft, makin' nice with a new kid.  
  
"It's not bad," shrugged Evan. "I'm learning how to get around."  
  
"Good. So, freshman boy, beetle your way back to class. Can't have freshmen beatin' me at mah own game of missin' as many classes as humanly possible."  
  
Evan rolled his eyes and finally grinned. "Whatever you say," he called over his shoulder as he left the room. Which reminded Rogue-  
  
"And stay outta any more girls' bathrooms. Not all the girls in Bayville are as nice as me," she said sarcastically. With no idea as to why she was even talking to this lowly freshman new kid, she hissed, "In fact, there's two ya gotta watch out for. Jean Grey and Kitty Pryde. Pretty enough on the outside, but real bitches the two of 'em."  
  
Evan stopped in his tracks and turned around, frowning. "Actually-"  
  
"Go on!" said Rogue impatiently. "And don't you tell no-one Ah was here, got it?"  
  
Evan nodded vociferously and went on his way.  
  
The rest of the day went as usual. Rogue caught her ride home with the boys after school, made herself some dinner and went out walking until it grew dark. It was on her walk she began entertaining a notion she had been trying very hard not to acknowledge. She didn't want anyone to know about it, it was kind of her secret. A heavy, pointless secret that weighed her down until she finally had to say it aloud, as she crossed the park she and Summers had been rehearsing their duologue in not too long ago.  
  
"It's mah birthday tomorrow," she said softly, and stopped in her tracks. "Ah'm gonna be sixteen at last."  
  
In her awkward preteen years, sixteen years old had been the milestone year. The year she would lose all her insecurities and become who she was always meant to be. Some twisted joke the universe decided to play on me, huh? she thought, glancing down at the hands which could touch none without harming them.  
  
Mosquitos buzzed in the rich air, which was warm for Bayville. Rogue was very sensitive to the cold, having lived in Mississippi for so long. She thought about her birthdays as she trudged home. Irene and Rogue had made a point of not making a big deal about birthdays. Just a nicer-than-normal meal to mark the occasion. Irene always gave her some birthday money with which to spoil herself, and Rogue was content. But sixteen was meant to be the year her whole life changed around.  
  
It did change around, she corrected herself. It changed for the worse is all.  
  
Rogue was going to spend sixteen, that landmark birthday, in the powerfully boring town of Bayville, with nobody who knew about her birthday or even cared. And that's the way it's gonna stay, she told herself firmly. Ah ain't lettin' slip about mah birthday to anybody. Not the boys or Mystique or anybody, hear?  
  
She found herself nodding meekly at these words. Rogue walked home, let herself into the boarding house and went up to bed without so much as a goodnight to any of the others. In her bed, with the light turned out  
  
Rogue had horrible, beautiful dreams about other people's birthdays that night. No, not dreams. Memories. She dreamed memories of other mutants' birthdays...  
  
A young boy with demonic looks sat at a kitchen table in a farmhouse as his parents sang him a happy eleventh birthday. They sang in German. The mother hugged her son a great deal more than usual, her eyes misty and troubled. When he went to bed he could hear his parents arguing about the gifts... again, in German, but every word was understood by the one who heard, the one whose memory it truly was.  
  
"... a football, Dieter! I can't believe you gave it to him like that! How could you be so thoughtless?"  
  
"But Kurt likes football, Heide."  
  
"He can't play football by himself!"  
  
"Don't- don't be so- I'll play with him, of course."  
  
"He's eleven now, Dieter! He needs friends his own age, but the way he looks other children will never accept him."  
  
"He liked his gifts, Heide. And he is our son; I won't listen to any more of this." The man stomped to bed, and Rogue felt eleven-year-old Kurt Wagner's pain at hearing his parents, usually so loving toward one another, fighting over him on his birthday. And when he began to cry in his bed, Rogue knew she was crying too.  
  
Rogue twitched in her own bed, still asleep. "Nein kein mehr, kämpft nicht, kann ich es irgendein mehr nicht nehmen... kämpft um mich nicht..." she whimpered.  
  
A stately woman, her white hair bright on her shoulders, graciously accepted a gift from a three-year-old boy as she sat on a sofa. In the room with them was a couple (the little boy's parents), another couple (her own adoptive parents), a bald man in a wheelchair and a gruff-looking man standing in the doorway, sipping a beer as he watched the woman unwrap presents from her family.  
  
"Iss f'you, Auntie Orororo. Hap' birfday," said the boy self-consciously, and grinned proudly when all the adults chuckled. He thought he'd done something clever.  
  
"He'll learn to pronounce it someday," said Violet Daniels in more apologetic tones than ever before. She picked up her son and plonked him on the couch next to his aunt. "Or else, we'll give you a nickname."  
  
"A nickname, me?" asked the woman whose birthday it was doubtfully. "I would have thought it would be hard to make a nickname out of Ororo."  
  
"Ain't that hard, 'Ro," said the man in the doorway. She smiled uncertainly at him before opening little Evan's present.  
  
Ororo Munroe tore open the gift to find a strange clay creation of her nephew's, complete with his deep, enthusiastic handprint as a kind of signature. In her eyes, any gift from the child was perfect. It was, in fact, entirely hideous, but it would not be out of obligation that she would keep it on her bedside table the rest of her life. It would be out of love.  
  
A strange sort of smile curled Rogue's lips in sleep, the tears of a few moments before forgotten. It was not her usual clumsy smile not often allowed to bloom on her face (because she was rarely happy enough to really smile). It was Ororo's serene smile.  
  
The boy in the next vision was only eight, but enormous. He was not sour-faced and quietly vengeful, though, but showed his emotions as he watched his father leave with his newest girlfriend. His mother was asleep in the next room, and the boy knew that he would cover for his father as long as he was able. Even if Mr Dukes did skip out on his own son's birthday evening to go and parade around town with his newest lady.  
  
"Well, my, aren't you handsome. Eight years old and so like your dad," said the woman as she stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. "You had a good birthday so far, Freddie?"  
  
The boy nodded vociferously, not wanting to upset his mother.  
  
"Sorry I been sleepin' most of it, sweetheart," she sighed. "I just feel so ill. Can't be fun, havin' a real party-pooper for a mom, can it?"  
  
"No, Mom," said the boy obediently. Realising what he'd said, he hastily stuttered, "I-I mean, yes, Mom. It can."  
  
She laughed, and Fred's heart leaped. "You're a good boy. Where is your famous father, as a matter of interest?"  
  
"Uh... I dunno," said Fred, and both of them winced as they heard the revving of Mr Dukes' beloved motorcycle.  
  
With a sigh, the woman went to the sink, filling herself a glass with water and drinking deeply.  
  
"I wish Dad'd take me out on his bike as much as he does with Melissa," said Fred reproachfully, so bitter he even risked saying her name in front of his mother. He saw his mother cringe as if he'd screamed it, and he immediately felt bad.  
  
Rogue moaned and turned over. In sleep, she had a sudden urge to punch something and watch it splinter into a million little pieces.  
  
The doors of the pizza parlour opened as the white-haired storm goddess from a previous memory ushered two twelve-year-olds inside, into the warmth. Both were rather tall for their age- the girl had long red hair and wore braces on her teeth. The boy's hair was brown and he was slightly shorter.  
  
"Oh, cool!" said the girl enthusiastically, and the boy felt himself smiling against his will. "See, Scott, I told you this place was cool! Come on, I wanna go and see all of it!"  
  
Scott Summers didn't see what was so fantastically different about this particular pizza parlour, but he was glad he had insisted on having his birthday treat with Jean, and only Jean. Of course, Ororo had to come, but she had seemed concerned he didn't want any of his schoolfriends to come.  
  
"It was kind of you to spend your birthday with only Jean," Ororo Munroe said quietly as they watched the young girl run off to waylay some waitresses whose younger sisters she knew from school. "It made her feel special. I may not be a telepath, but I know. Scott, were you sure about spending your birthday with only Jean?"  
  
"You're here," Scott pointed out.  
  
"I know, but I'm the chaperone, Scott. I'm here to make sure bikers don't abduct the two of you." Ororo smiled as Scott finally cracked a grin. "Now, spill. You have plenty of friends at your school, yet you chose to take only Jean on your birthday treat."  
  
Scott shrugged. "She's only been at Xavier's a little longer than me. And I know I haven't been there so long, but- Jean's my best friend. And when Jean's around I don't think about my brother. I don't think about Alex, Storm."  
  
"What do you think about?"  
  
"Stuff." Scott shrugged again. "I don't want- to think about Alex on my birthday." He paused. "He's dead, Ororo."  
  
"Do you really believe that?"  
  
Scott looked at his shoes. "Yes."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"No."  
  
Ororo sighed and put her arm around Scott's shoulders. Scott felt embarrassed. She seemed to sense this as she whispered into the boy's ear, "Scott, we'll talk about this later. Meanwhile, she's waiting for you."  
  
Scott's grin didn't budge again the whole evening, after he ran off after his friend Jean.  
  
Even in the happy memory, Rogue's intense loathing of Summers and Grey showed through as she glowered. And she dreamed of nothing but birthdays that whole night, until when she awoke the next morning she was sick of hers before it had even started.  
  
"Ah'm-" she muttered, eyes lightly closed as she registered the fact that her room was all full up with light. "It's-" She finally jerked upward into a sitting position, and her eyes fluttered open. Thousands of voices seemed to be yelling inside her head, and finally she found her own as she spoke aloud. "Ah'm sixteen today."  
  
Without warning, Rogue climbed from her bed and dug around in her closet until she found her copy of Blackwood Farm, which she hadn't read for awhile. She remembered what she had been using for a bookmark, though. She pulled it out of the spine of the book: a tightly folded square of notebook paper from three years ago, that day. Rogue unfolded it and read it with displeased eyes. Written on the heavily creased paper was-  
  
Things I Absolutely Have To Do Before I Turn Sixteen  
  
1. Go to a concert.  
  
2. Climb a mountain.  
  
3. Write a real song.  
  
4. Learn to dance.  
  
5. Kiss a guy.  
  
6. Go to Mardi Gras in N'Awlins with someone who really cares about me.  
  
7. Get my ears pierced.  
  
God. Had this been what Rogue had wanted three years beforehand, on her thirteenth birthday? She remembered it now- solemnly writing down each thing, folding it up small and then vowing not to open it until her sixteenth birthday. And she had used it for a bookmark. God knows why, she'd used to think, because at turns she could sometimes forget the exact significance of the paper. She must have been subconsciously dying to open the paper, all those years.  
  
All for nothing. Or rather, all so it could be thrown in her face how utterly sucky she was.  
  
Rogue looked at the things written down on the paper and sighed. Congratulations, thirteen-year-old me, she thought. You grew up into a real loser. Ah haven't done any of the things Ah wanted to do. And now, most of 'em Ah'll probably never get to do.  
  
Forget about it, she thought harshly, standing up and yawning. She felt groggy after her fitful dreams. Rubbing at her eyes, she thought, Years come and years go but Ah still hafta get ready for school.  
  
She paused and smirked as she left her bedroom to get some breakfast. How damned depressin', she thought.  
  
- - -  
  
DISCLAIMER: X-Men: Evolution does not belong to me. It belongs to Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, the WB, whoever you like. If it belonged to me, I would have probably abducted all my favourite XME boys off the WB backlot, heh heh.  
  
NOTES: No italics in this one, because ffn.net's being all bitchy. Grr. I love italics, they're my life! How am I meant to denote enunciation of words, or different languages, or written words, or THOUGHTS? Arrrgh!  
  
... Hopefully I'll be able to edit it later.  
  
Rogue's random spurt of German in her dream translates to, "Please don't fight... don't fight over me... can't take it when you fight..." Or something like that. Grumble. FreeTranslation.com totally sucks when it comes to translating full sentences. Any Germans are going to find this fic hilarious, and not in the good way.  
  
Yep, the kid in the bathroom at Bayville High was THE Evan, and it'll be dealt with. Rogue doesn't know he's an X-Man for now, but she will.  
  
Thank you to all the reviewers for, erm, reviewing, I guess. And epona04, it was very kind of you to go through more than one chapter to review.  
  
I will, of course, chronicle the rest of the events of Speed and Spyke. I was just kind of desperate to get a new chapter up, as you've probably guessed by the fact that this chapter is shorter than usual. So worry not, Pietro fangirls, for he shall make his grand entrance. Snicker. And I promise I won't be making any snide comments about hiding in the closet. For now, taking the piss out of his middle name should do nicely...  
  
SONGS:  
  
Field of Innocence by Evanescence (Rogue's dreams about other people's birthdays)  
  
Sixteen by No Doubt (Play this when Rogue leaves her room after all her dreams, because... well, der. It's Rogue's sixteenth, so I think we should celebrate, non? It's such a groovy song, one I love to do little crazy dances to. I am definitely playing it at my next birthday party.) 


	9. Chapter Eight: A Better Brotherhood Girl

When Rogue got downstairs, Mystique was mumbling into the telephone in the kitchen, and held out the receiver to Rogue as she passed. "Phone for you, Rogue. It's Irene."

Irene? What the hell was she calling for? "Oh. OK." Rogue took the phone and tried not to look at any of the boys. The loudest noise in the kitchen was not the two Brotherhood women talking, but the boys eavesdropping. She turned her back on them. "Hello?"

"It's me, Irene."

"Hey. Um... why are ya callin'?"

Irene made an astonished noise. "It's your birthday. It's not every day a girl turns sixteen, is it?"

Rogue had to smile. "'Spose not," she said carefully.

"How are you, Rogue? You have everything you need, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Mystique's got me pretty much covered. So, gonna make me a birthday prediction, Destiny?"

"Unlikely, Rogue. Honey, I can't come up with predictions on command." She paused. "You don't sound happy."

"Why should Ah be happy?" said Rogue hotly, clutching the receiver tighter than was necessary.

Irene sounded a little desperate. "It's your _birthday, _Rogue."

"Yeah," said Rogue, lowering her voice. The boys' ears were practically out on stalks. "Sounds like a good reason to be happy. Why, Ah can't see. But don't worry yourself about it, Irene. Ain't like you're mah mom or anything."

There was a wounded silence on the other end of the line. Rogue knew she'd hurt Irene's feelings, but she felt slightly angry at her for not being there. Even though it wasn't Irene's fault. _Ah'm under stress at the moment,_ she thought. _Besides, sixteen's not too old to act like an immature little bitch._

Oh, what was the big damn deal with sixteen anyway?

"Rogue," said Irene softly. "I'm sorry you had to be sent away. I'd be angry too. It's for your own good, don't you see that?"

Rogue felt a wave of shame engulf her. When she spoke she sounded slightly choked up, "Yeah. Ah know. It's just kinda pent-up over here at the moment, but- gotta go, Ah'll be late for school. Talk to ya soon, bye Irene." She slammed down the phone and immediately hated herself for it: Raven was very strict in reinforcing the one call a week rule. Rogue had used up her only call to Irene. She hadn't even apologised to Irene for being cruel.

"Who was that?" asked Lance, frowning.

Rogue pretended not to hear and went upstairs to get dressed. As she ascended each step she felt steadily worse, until by the time she reached the second floor of the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House she wanted to crawl into her bed, yank the blanket over her head and wait out the hours 'til her seventeenth birthday rolled around.

"This is pitiful. Ah've gotta be optimistic," she muttered, picking out her favourite black leather skirt. She blinked and almost managed to laugh. _God, Ah never thought Ah'd hear mahself say that!_

She made herself a solemn promise. _From now on, Ah'm gonna be a good Brotherhood woman and beat on the X-Men whenever Ah can. Ah'm gonna be a good daughter to Irene and not snap at her for stuff that ain't her fault. Ah'm gonna heed Mystique and listen to what she says, 'cause though Ah hate to admit she knows better than Ah do on some things. Ah'll get mah own back at all the teachers by listenin' in class and gettin' good grades. When Ah get to do and be all those things, everyone will know Ah'm serious about who Ah am. No more playin' around. Ah'm sixteen now, Ah can't be a kid any more._

Feeling slightly redeemed by her noble (but unspoken) profession of who she was going to be now that she was sixteen and an adult (even if the damn government didn't see it her way); Rogue got washed and dressed. She walked down the stairs in as confident a fashion as she could manage, and found the boys watching television, as usual.

"Come on, guys, we've gotta get to school," Rogue said, leaning against the doorway in a way that reminded the boys spookily of Mystique.

"What do you care, Rogue?" Todd asked, catching a fly on his tongue. "You always get a ride with Mystique."

"Not any more. From now on Ah ride with you guys," she said gruffly.

The boys all gave her strange looks.

"What? Ah had thought ya wouldn't be so horrified by the thought of me catchin' a ride to with ya'll." Brazenly, Rogue went on, "As far as Ah'm concerned, Mystique can take her ride and shove it up her-"

"Ahem."

Rogue nearly jumped out of her skin as Mystique materialised behind her. "Oh. Uh... Mystique. Hi." She heard the boys give valiant attempts to stifle their laughter.

... Rogue was dead. Rogue was SO dead. Nobody dared disrespect Mystique. Absolutely freaking nobody!

Mystique looked like she was torn between ripping Rogue's head off her shoulders and bursting into evil laughter. "Am I to take your little outburst to mean you decline my offer of a ride this morning?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Rogue meekly, wishing she could evaporate into thin air and die. Impressing the boys was not worth losing what respect Mystique had for her. Rogue and Mystique had just started to establish a weird kind of rapport, but now...

"Very well." Mystique folded her arms and promptly shapeshifted into Principal Darkholme, which made all of the Brotherhood teenagers flinch slightly. "The period before lunch I want to see all of you in my office. There's someone you'll need to meet- particularly you, Rogue."

"Me?" asked Rogue, frowning. "Why me?"

"He has wanted to meet you for a long time," said Darkholme rather dismissively. "Well, I'm leaving. All of you get to school soon, because I'll know if you come in late."

"Yes, Mystique," chorused the boys as Mystique gave them a massive glare. Rogue didn't bother to speak. All of them were silent until Mystique left the house. They heard the front door slam, and then all of them (minus Rogue) launched into a tirade she'd heard about a million times before. That morning, it seemed, her brethren were all truly feeling the Mystique-hate.

"That psycho bitch rules our lives and I'm sick of it," moaned Lance, getting up and stretching after five excruciating minutes of Mystique-hatred. Rogue rolled her eyes and wondered why the expression coined most often to describe Mystique was 'that psycho bitch-lady/woman'. Surely they weren't so entirely dumb they couldn't think of some other way to describe her. Rogue was halfway intelligent and she was pretty sure she'd never once called Mystique a psycho bitch.

"Hey, genius math man, ya ain't been here nearly long enough to get sick of anything," she pointed out.

The boys looked at her. "Well, you can't seriously like her," said Fred incredulously.

Rogue shrugged. "She's OK."

"Can't blame Rogue for likin' Mystique. Mystique picks on us more than Rogue," Todd sneered.

"Ah didn't say Ah liked her. Ah said she was OK," Rogue said hotly. "And Ah- Ah-" The boys looked at her condescendingly. "Aw, shove it, slimeball," bitched Rogue finally, regretting her earlier profession of unity with the boys.

Not unsurprisingly, Rogue was late to school that morning. It was hard to tear Fred from the living room before the end credits of _Powderpuff Girls,_ after all. Rogue sprinted to her first class, went through her "No, Ah'll never be late again, Ah promise." speech and sat down, musing. Did she like Mystique? It was hard to like someone that... evil. Yet she'd been nothing but civil and concerned (... and, well, slightly psychotic at times, she thought without cracking a smile) towards Rogue since Rogue's arrival in Bayville. And she was a friend of Irene's. But right now Rogue felt so confused about where her relationship with Irene was that didn't seem to mean a lot.

Sometimes she missed Irene badly. She supposed it was natural, as Irene was the closest thing Rogue knew to a mother. Irene was her home in Caldecot, the dinners they ate, the conversations they had, the money shelled out with nary a complaint so Rogue could satisfy her whims. Irene was part of Rogue, part of where she came from.

Sometimes she felt angry and resentful of her for sending her away to Bayville, away from everything she knew, and in turn felt disgusted at herself for acting so immature. It wasn't Irene's fault she was a mutant with a particularly disturbing and harmful power.

__

"... what do ya do?"

"I can see the future. My mutant friends call me Destiny."

"Nice. Do you ever see mah future?"

"Yes."

"What about mah present?" asked Rogue sceptically. "Ever see that?"

"I do. I saw it in the past, which made it your future then."

Rogue thought about Irene- _Destiny_- a lot that period, getting hardly any of her work done. _So she can see the future, _Rogue thought sceptically. _Did she ever see how much of an evil little bitch Ah was gonna turn out to be?_

Her next class was French. Rogue had mixed feelings about French. French was good because it was her best subject. She had a natural aptitude for the language and the culture. There weren't many in the way of undesirables in the class, but the one prevalent one she found to be a real problem. Kurt Wagner, the teleporter from Germany, was another student in the class.

"_Bonjour, classe,_" rasped Mrs Connell as she took her place at the head of the classroom.

Everyone pulled themselves out of their own little worlds for a few seconds in order to answer, "_Bonjour, _Madame Connell." Rogue, remembering her oath that morning, made herself try and concentrate.

Rogue didn't understand Kurt Wagner totally. He was such a joker. This class was no exception to the rule. He knew everyone thought French sounded odd spoken in a German accent. He played up to this, revelled in it. He put on a corny French voice that made girls smile and boys guffaw. Everyone except Rogue found him amusing enough, but she saw other things when she looked at him. She saw the friendly boy he'd been for about three seconds before morphing into a blue-furred monster, that night in Caldecot. She saw the little boy who cried when his parents fought on account of him.

Was the way he acted around everyone else just a front, something he put on to make himself seem more normal? Sifting through the sketchy memories, the things she'd picked up elsewhere, she knew that for much of his life he'd been home schooled. His only friends had been pen pals or faceless personalities on the Internet. How was it he acted as though he'd been at this for so long, this whole 'class clown' persona? _He must've been waitin' his whole life for what he has now, _Rogue mused. _To show people what he has inside._

Oh, but she had to be careful or she'd start feeling sorry for him. Maybe even liking him. She'd rather... rather do something really humiliating than become friends with an X-Man!

Now, Scott Summers, Rogue could get. There was a simple guy, all right. It was easy to see what kind of person Summers was. He valued things like being super-nice to the girls he liked and courteous, at least, to the ones he didn't. And he was carrying on an illicit relationship with that red convertible he drove around in. Which reminded her... Rogue looked ruefully down at her hands, wishing she could jot down important notes on them like other people. Instead, she used the margin of her piece of paper.

__

new annoying quality- when i get to school early i see s.s. pulling up in that damn convertible of his. s.s. kind of pats his car every time he gets out of/into it. loser.

With a grin, Rogue looked up and straight into Wagner's eyes. He'd turned around and happened to make eye contact with him. He gave her a sunny smile, and Rogue scowled in return. _Blue-haired freak smilin' at me, Ah dunno, he comes near me Ah'll make him wish he'd tangled with Fred instead..._

It was a normal day, boring as birthdays went, and it took all too long for their meeting with Principal Darkholme to roll around. Rogue was feeling pretty low by this point- not depressed or angry, just... neutral. She knew she ought to cherish her neutral moments because at least she wasn't bursting into tears or feeling explosive anger, but she just couldn't. _Maybe neutral's just a fancy way of sayin' boring._

And it was boring, to sit in the front office and be ignored by Dorothy the Perky Secretary, except for the moment she cheerily told the Brotherhood that, "... Miss Darkholme will see you in a minute, kids." That had been fifteen minutes ago.

Why couldn't Mystique have adopted the guise of a PTA official, or a custodian, or even another student? Why did she have to be the principal of Bayville High? Rogue moodily turned her back on the boys to stare into a distant corner.

...

"Hon?"

Rogue sat up straight. "Huh?"

"Hon, Principal Darkholme will see you now," said Dorothy the Perky Secretary, her hand lingering on Rogue's shoulder. Rogue pushed it away and dusted off her shoulder vigorously, giving her a funny look.

The boys stood mulishly around, waiting for her to get up. Principal Darkholme stood in the doorway, and waited there until each of her team had shuffled inside her office. There were usually only two chairs but she'd taken the liberty of assembling four, one for each Brotherhood kid.

"Where's this guy you wanted us to meet, Mystique?" asked Fred, running a hand through his mohawk.

"Mr Lensherr had to leave early," said Darkholme evenly, grimacing at Fred forgetting what to call her on school grounds.

"Pity," Lance deadpanned.

She gave him a hard look. "Pity is right. I had hoped he'd be more involved in his enterprise."

"Enter-what?" Todd asked, scratching the back of his head.

"Enterprise. Specifically, you people. However, he may show more often if we manage to secure another person." Darkholme waved her hand over a small device sitting on the desktop. A hologram appeared at her eye-level.

"Whoa!" cried Fred. Lance actually went as far as to nod approvingly.

Rogue said sarcastically, "Oh, yeah. Very Star Wars."

Todd snickered. "Save me, Obi-Wan! You're my only hope!" Even though no-one else even cracked a grin, he found this hysterical and giggled until Darkholme gave him a terrible death-glare. Rogue punched Todd on the arm, showing just how much she had learned from Lance.

"Yes, yes, it's all very futuristic. But do any of you see what the hologram is?" she asked, giving them a look that suggested she might kick them out of the Brotherhood if they got it wrong.

"It's a kid," Fred said finally.

"A guy. Around our age," Rogue supplied. "Why're we seein' this?"

"I'm showing you three this because this boy may well be becoming a new member of our team. He is the rival of a boy who has recently joined the X-Men- of course; I don't need to show you what this other boy looks like."

"Nope."

"Nuh-uh."

"Nah."

"Um, yes. Please," said Rogue, trying to look as capable as possible.

Darkholme's black gaze locked on the young girl. "Rogue? Now, why haven't any of the boys pointed out the new X-Man to you? Young as they may be, the X-Men are and should be considered extremely dangerous."

"We've tried to show Rogue," said Todd defensively. "Girl never wants to go see 'em."

Darkholme glared at Rogue. "I was afraid this might happen. Regardless of what you might have suffered at the hands of the X-Men, Rogue, you mustn't be afraid to seek them out for yourself."

"Why, what did the X-Men-" began Lance.

"Shut up, Avalanche!" snapped Rogue. Rogue burned as the boys looked curiously at her. She turned to Darkholme. "Ah'm not afraid."

"Quiet. You are reckless. We will speak after this meeting, do you understand? Cardinal rule of our work, Rogue, familiarise yourself with your enemy."

Rogue's hands became livid fists. A fine flower of pain bloomed in her ribcage at the memory of what the X-Men had inflicted upon her. Rogue couldn't believe that Mystique would say such things in front of the boys. What if the boys asked what she was talking about?

"See him now, then," Darkholme said, and waved her hand over the device with a flourish.

Rogue was numb as the discussion continued. An image had come up- a young boy with dark skin in your typical skater-boy attire. His hair was bleached yellow, and Rogue had recognised him instantly.

__

"What's y'name?" asked Rogue, hands on her hips.

"Evan. I'm a freshman. What's yours?"

"You'll find out soon enough. So, how long've ya been here?"

"Since last week."

... She had talked with him. She had been alone with him. She'd made some rather disparaging comments about the girls who were his teammates but that wasn't even the worst thing, it was that- she'd been alone with an X-Man and she hadn't even known it. What if he'd attacked her?

Tried to attack her, that was, because Rogue was twice as good a fighter as any X-Man. She could have taken him out easily, but still...

__

God. He could've jumped me when mah back was turned or somethin'. Ah was off mah guard and that's the main thing. That's the really disturbin' thing.

The meeting ended, and Rogue waited for each of the boys to file out. Todd muttered something about meeting them in the quad, but Rogue didn't respond. Eyeing Principal Darkholme, she held her hands behind her back and said in the most respectful tone she could achieve, "You wanted t'see me, ma'am?"

"Yes, Rogue. I must confess it isn't so much about your refusal to be introduced to Evan Daniels that upsets me."

Cautiously, Rogue interjected, "So... you're not mad about that?"

"You have the right idea about these X-Men, Rogue. They are not your equals. Equal fighters, maybe, but not equal people."

"... all animals are equal," muttered Rogue. With a small grin, she quoted, "But some animals are more equal'n others." Now, where was that from again?

Darkholme nodded in approval. "_Animal Farm. _That's one of my favourites."

"Uh, yeah." Rogue twitched slightly and couldn't explain it.

Her strange reaction to Darkholme's liking of the George Orwell novel went unnoticed. "Now, what I wanted to speak with you about was your conversation with Irene this morning."

Rogue winced.

"Yes, you may well squirm. You were very rude to her, Rogue, and I will not tolerate that again. Irene is a great friend of mine and I have a lot of respect for her. Her talents are truly extraordinary and have been of great value to our cause. She mentioned you seemed angry about having been sent away for your birthday?"

"Ah didn't say that." Rogue paused and mumbled, "Wouldn't've thought Irene'd just tell ya everythin' in our conversation like that."

"Oh, rest assured, she didn't want to. But I can be very persuasive."

"Ah'll say." Rogue smirked.

"Rogue, none of this can be helped. You've become what you were born to be. Your whole life begins now, and it has been planned down to the smallest detail."

Rogue frowned and shook her head. "Nothin's final yet."

"Of course not. Now, I will permit you to call Irene this week but only so you can apologise for being rude and hurtful." There was a sarcastic little curl to Darkholme's voice. "And keep it short, not all of my money from the cause's leader can't go to your phone bills."

"No, ma'am."

There was a pause.

"So..."

"So, what?"

"Your secretary," said Rogue with a snort. "_Hon. _Is she serious when she says that, or can't she remember anybody's name? _Hon, _good lord. The only person in the whole world Ah let call me anythin' like that is Irene. If Ah weren't on school grounds Ah swear to ya Ah would've broken that woman's face."

Darkholme was smirking at Rogue's Dorothy imitation, but appeared interested. "Oh? And what does she call you?"

Slightly embarrassed, Rogue finally said, "Irene calls- called me honey. When Ah was younger she... she used to tell me it was 'cause Ah was sweet. It used to make me smile." She shrugged and managed to laugh. "Little kids, huh? You can get through to 'em so easy. Ah mean, most of 'em are kinda... stupid, really."

Darkholme shook her head. "No. I've known young children wiser than many adults I've encountered."

"Well, maybe you could introduce me to some of these kids," said Rogue jokingly.

"Perhaps. Oh, and Rogue, I almost forgot." The principal reached inside her desk and brought out an envelope. Rogue took it and discovered a birthday card with some folded-up notes inside.

"Good old Irene," she said with a smile. "Ah never would've expected her to have the card here on time and all..."

"How much did she send you?"

"Forty bucks. Last of the big spenders. Ah'll be able to buy m'self somethin' real nice with this. Ah'll thank her when Ah call her, yes?"

"Yes," said Darkholme, nodding in approval. With hesitation, she extracted something from her pocket and held it out to Rogue. "Take this."

"Uh- what's that?"

"It's money, Rogue. For your birthday."

"That's twenty bucks. Not that Ah d-don't appreciate it an' all, but are ya sure ya wanna give me twenty bucks?" Rogue looked doubtful. Why was Darkholme giving her money? "Ah mean, you've been bitchin' about me runnin' up big phone bills an' yet now you're givin' me money outta the kindness of your heart?"

"Charming," said Darkholme sarcastically, and Rogue sneered. "Take it. It'll keep me honest."

"How else does a shapeshifter keep herself honest?" mused Rogue, but with her hand shaking slightly she reached out and took the money. Putting it into her pocket, she said, "Thank you, ma'am."

Looking slightly harried, Darkholme said, "Yes, it's quite all right. Anyway, Rogue, you'd better go. I believe it's time for your lunch now."

"OK. Bye, Principal Darkholme." Rogue opened the door to go.

"Rogue?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday, Rogue." Darkholme was looking over some papers on her desk, sounded supremely uninterested and yet she looked very briefly into the pale face of the trainee terrorist whose birthday it was.

"Um, thanks." Rogue waved jauntily at the woman behind the desk, and she left.

- - -

DISCLAIMER: _X-Men Evolution_ does not belong to me. If it did, I would give some XME writers on this site jobs writing for the show. XME belongs to Stan Lee, the WB, Marvel Comics, whoever you like. _Star Wars _belongs to George Lucas and _Animal Farm _belongs to George Orwell.

NOTES: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I had major-league writer's block. I should really be doing my stupid economics assignment, but this chapter, boring as it was, felt much more important. This is where I do a smarmy smile and say, "Don't you feel special now?" causing most of the readers to lob things at me and the rest to set my house on fire.

Next chapter will probably be quite short. I had a little bit of writer's block as to the rest of Speed and Spyke, and anyway my older sister will be home soon, whining, "I want to call my booooyfrieeeeend so get off the Neeeeeeeeet." Grr.

My best friend Helen and I have posted a fic under the pseudonym The Forces of Evil. If you're interested, it's a humour/parody XME fic called _The Ragin' Ouch _and there's loads of Scott-bashing... literally. Star-of-Chaos already reviewed it, so thank you for that. As much as it may seem, I don't hate Scott. I actually quite like all of the X-Men. But like I've said before, you can't expect a character like that NOT to have the piss taken out of him. He practically goes down on his knees and begs for it. :)

Oh my God! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod! I SAW THE _A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS _TRAILER! Aiiiiiii!

... Sorry. It's just that I'm a rather obsessive fan of those books, and I think it looks so cool... very Gothic. And the girl who is playing Violet is Australian (doing a pretty damn good American accent) and she looks kind of like Angelina Jolie, and she wears this excellent costume in the trailer. She has these net gloves that go up to her elbows... friggin' awesome. And Sunny is sooo adorable! I am so excited.

SONGS:

__

Hate Every Beautiful Day by Sugarcult (If Rogue wasn't a sullen teenager before in this story, then she certainly is now, eh?)


	10. Chapter Nine: Pietro Maximoff

Nothing else of interest really happened until the end of the school day, when Rogue and the boys were heading out to the front of the school to get in the Jeep and drive home. Rogue strode along towards the back of the little delinquent clump, mulling over what she was going to do with all the money she now had. Rogue, who had never had a job, did not usually have much in the way of cash, except for around birthday-time. She wondered if Bayville had any good clothes stores...

__

Still. Grey and Pryde supposedly shop in only the best places. If what they _wear's the best this pitiful town has, might mean Ah'll have to take a day trip up to New York. Ah could slip some sleepers into Mystique's coffee so she wouldn't know Ah'd gone. God knows that woman'd bust a gut if Ah ever skipped school on her watch._

Someone shouting her name brought Rogue out of her pleasant retail-therapeutic reverie. She looked sharply at the boys- they had so little finesse they often yelled right in each other's ears. Yet none were looking at her. They were squaring themselves up, looking determined and Fred was breathing sharply through his nose, which could mean only one thing. The Brotherhood boys were preparing for a fight... or they'd seen an ice cream truck. Whatever.

No, it was a fight, and it was presumably with whoever was yelling for Rogue. Out of the throng a person materialised. He looked quite happy to see Rogue.

"X-Man," she heard Lance mutter to Todd. Rogue didn't have to be told. Half of her wanted to run for her life, another quarter wanted to beat the crap out of Evan and the final quarter wanted to die from embarrassment.

"Hey, Rogue!" Rogue looked at the boy aghast as he made his way over to her. "How've you been? I'm good. Haven't been going into any more girls' bathrooms." He grinned like everything was OK... which everything was not.

Rogue couldn't speak. Evan was one of the X-Men. Even though he hadn't been part of their team when the X-Men had attacked her she still had a cold and panicky feeling like the walls were closing in on her.

"You know this geek?" asked Fred, cracking his knuckles. _Ooh, tough guy, _she thought reproachfully. The boys, despite their seeming readiness to fight, had moved backward out of harm's way.

"No!" said Rogue, rather shrilly. She took a step backward.

The Brotherhood boys looked at her expectantly. Evan looked at her expectantly.

Evan looked slightly hurt, but she felt nothing for that. He was an X-Man. What was she meant to do?

... She knew. She knew what she had to do, as a good Brotherhood girl. And she wasn't sorry. She wanted to do it. She needed to show this new X-Man never to mess with her like his teammates had done in the past. He needed to learn young not to ever come near a Brotherhood member and expect kindness, forgiveness or compassion. No such things dwelled in Rogue.

Glowering at him, she hissed in a low, dangerous voice, "Get AWAY from me, X-Man!" Storming past him to join her team, she bumped into his shoulder, hard.

"What'd I do?" asked Evan in shock.

Rogue turned back and snarled, "You're no friend of mine. You come near me again; Ah'll beat the holy _shit _outta you!"

Evan watched, looking extremely taken aback as Rogue stamped over to the Brotherhood boys, who all leered rather evilly at Evan before the group turned on their collective heel and made for the car park. It felt good, to stride along as part of a group... to fit in among the boys. She didn't feel in tune with them often, but when she did it was cool. She'd never belonged with anyone before, and it felt like... like...

Unable to think of the words, Rogue abandoned that train of thought. _At any rate, mah birthday is definitely lookin' up, _thought Rogue in vicious satisfaction.

In the car (sitting in her usual seat), Rogue looked over her birthday card from Irene for about the eleventh time since the Brotherhood meeting in Darkholme's office. It was a standard mass-produced girly birthday card, with Irene's message inside typewritten.

__

Dear Rogue, it said.

__

Happy birthday! I still can't believe you're sixteen years old. I wish so much that I could see you right now. It hurt me to have to send you away when your life is only just beginning. I miss you a lot. We are going to see each other again, honey. Probably very soon...?

__

Remember, Rogue, listen to Raven and keep up with your studies. I know you're going to make me very proud.

Best wishes from Irene.

Rogue looked over the card again and again. _Soon, huh? _she thought, trying to suppress a thrill of excitement. Maybe she would be sent home for a visit soon, or Irene could come to Bayville...?

But that was impossible, she realised somewhat dully. There was no way Mystique would let her go home, not this soon anyway. And she _missed _Irene. She missed the way she'd hum as she ran her hands over a Braille novel, making up half-tunes and smiling cryptically. People were often nervous of Irene, as though blindness was contagious and Rogue didn't understand that.

__

Maybe Ah just play dumb somehow. People act as if whatever's goin' on with me is contagious too. She smiled wryly. _If only they knew._

"Whatcha got, Rogue?" asked Todd, and she was suddenly aware of the boys looking at her. They were waiting at the traffic lights.

Rogue glared. "Nothin.'" She hastily tried to shove the birthday card out of sight.

"You haven't been looking at anything or anyone else since we started driving," said Lance, turning around to smirk at her.

"What am Ah meant to look at? You?" asked Rogue witheringly.

"It's gotta be interesting if it keeps you from looking at me," Lance deadpanned, giving a slightly wolfish grin. "Blob, you know what to do."

Fred went mock-menacingly for Rogue's arm- she shoved his hand away and decided she might as well. "Ah'll only let ya see if ya can guess what it is. Which means Ah'll never have to show ya 'cause you guys are so dumb."

"Is that a challenge, yo?" asked Todd, grinning. Somewhere along the line the boys had stopped taking Rogue seriously about these things, even if she actually meant it.

Grimly, Rogue said, "You know it."

"Bank statement," Lance guessed. The Jeep pulled away.

"Not even close."

"Death threat?" Fred asked.

"Nuh-uh."

"Loooove note?" sneered Todd, with the intention of embarrassing Rogue into revealing something.

"Fat chance," Rogue scoffed, without so much as a trace of bitterness. This wrong-footed the boys, who exchanged glances. Rogue saw this and said comfortably, "Keep the guesses comin', Ah like this game."

"Birthday card?" guessed Fred.

Hands firmly pinning the card to her lap, Rogue looked away and (biting her lip to try and conceal her smirk) muttered, "Oh, you are so wrong..."

A pause.

"I knew it!" yelled Lance jubilantly from the driver's seat. "Grab it, Toad!"

The Jeep swerved as a minor scuffle took place in the backseat and Rogue somehow managed to kick Lance in the back of the head. "Ow!" he yelled reproachfully as Fred yelled, "Got it!" and waved a rather scrunched-up birthday card in his massive fist.

Todd grabbed it and began reading it aloud in a sickly voice. Curiously, Rogue did not feel like taking each of them out, but rather as if she were included in a joke. Which she supposed she was.

"Ah'll ask ya to give that back now," she stated in a chilly voice. "And thank you kindly; Blob, for pulverisin' the one birthday card Ah'll get this year. 'Preciate it."

It was then that the meaning of _birthday _card seemed to dawn on the boys- well, Todd and Fred at least. Lance had fallen silent a little while ago and looked slightly guilty.

"Give it to her, Toad," he mumbled, avoiding Rogue's green eyes in the rear view mirror.

"It's your birthday?" he asked foolishly.

"No," said Rogue sarcastically, and then hastily said, "No. 'Course not. And if it were Ah wouldn't tell ya."

"You should've told us." This was Fred.

"Uh-huh." Sarcasm practically bogged down the cars heading along the road. Rogue folded her arms and looked out of the nearest window, scowling. With a smirk, she turned back to Todd. "Gross, Tolensky, ya probably got slime on it."

The boys hooted and started making many different delightfully immature slime-related jokes. Rogue's birthday seemed to have been forgotten for the moment.

"Ya'll are such idiots," said Rogue, but she was... laughing. _They're really not so bad sometimes, _she thought. Not that she'd ever tell them that. Didn't want them to get too big for their boots or anything. "Ya'll are _such_ idiots," she repeated, shaking her head, and snatched the birthday card back from Todd. She just felt glad the money was in her pocket.

...

"Who's Irene?" asked Lance that night as Rogue strolled into the kitchen with her hair wrapped in a towel because she'd just had a shower. She was wearing her gloves with her pyjamas.

"Pardon?" asked Rogue absently, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear as she poured herself some milk.

"The woman who sent you the card. Who's she?"

"Piss off, Avalanche," Rogue said automatically. She had humoured the Brotherhood boys earlier, now she was in the mood to be alone. Nothing got between Rogue Adler and her alone time, dammit.

Lance appeared not to have heard. "She sounds like a mom. Is she your mom?"

"Ah don't have a mom. Where's Mystique?"

"She left when you were in the shower. Said she had something important to do."

"Hmm."

"Is she your mom?"

Rogue looked at him with something like revulsion. "Who, Mystique?"

Lance looked equally revolted. "No! Irene."

Rogue gave him a commiserating look. "Ugh, fine. She's mah foster mom. Or ex-foster mom, Ah suppose, now that technically Ah'm livin' on mah own."

There was a loud crash and riotous laughter from upstairs.

"Technically," said Lance thoughtfully. "She seems to like you."

"Who, Mystique?" said Rogue sarcastically.

"_No,_" Lance said witheringly. "Irene."

Rogue slurped some milk and sneered at Lance. Wiping her upper lip she said thoughtfully, "Seems sometimes like Ah'm a tad bit obsessed with Mystique, huh?"

"More like she's obsessed with you. I'm startin' to feel like I have a little sister, the way Mystique goes on. 'Look after Rogue, don't piss Rogue off, make sure Rogue knows friends from enemies...' I'm gonna start a petition that'll bar Mystique from putting any more girls in the Brotherhood, period."

"Come off it, Lance," Rogue said sharply. "Surely Ah'm not the worst example ya could ever come across? Ah'm sure there's prospective Brotherhood girls loads more scary an' psycho than me."

"Doubt it." Lance sneered. He left the room, and Rogue absent-mindedly gave his retreating back a flip of the bird.

Her birthday, which had started out rather crappily, had ended on an OK note. Rogue sat up in her room and made herself some birthday notes in her notebook.

__

Got one birthday card- from Irene, duh, she wrote. _Todd keeps humming 'Happy Birthday'. I swear if he does it again I'll grab his slimy tongue and choke him with it. Yeah._

Maybe not. The boys aren't pissing me off nearly so much as usual today. Guess it's the whole birthday thing. I'll be back to normal tomorrow.

Wonder what that dick Summers gets for his birthday. Socks, most likely. Or a book on how to be dull and totally goody-goody. No, what am I thinking? He probably wrote that book himself, didn't he? I must find out when his birthday is, I have the best idea for a birthday present for him. I can scratch a message into the side of that precious car of his! But what?

MUTANT BITCHES RULE? Or HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOSER? Or how about ALL HAIL SCOTT SUMMERS AND THE GEEK SQUAD?

She snickered and shoved her notebook under her pillow.

As usual, her dreams were odd... disjointed, even. That night they were not so much memories as a garbled version of events... she was in the back of the Jeep, fighting with Fred and Todd over Irene's birthday card to her, and the Jeep flipped right over onto the road...

"Up!" yelled a voice. Someone was banging on her bedroom door.

Rogue sleepily went up on her elbows. "Whuh?" she said, very eloquently.

"Get up!"

It was Fred. For a literal vampire Rogue was not crazy about being woken up in the dead of night, and she threw a textbook at the door. It glanced off and landed with a thump on the wood floor.

"Mystique called. She says we've gotta get up and get dressed 'cause we're goin' to meet someone."

Rogue glanced at her bedside clock and choked on indignation. "It's four-thirty in the freakin' _morning,_" she moaned. "She should get someone who particularly _cares_ to come with her on her little rescue mission."

"Get up, Rogue!" The door swung open. Fred hauled Rogue bodily out of bed. "Todd and Lance are already dressed," he said accusingly, setting her on her feet.

__

Yeah, only 'cause they probably fell asleep watchin' TV again. "Can you _not_?" she asked icily, wrenching her forearm out of his grip.

"And it's not a rescue mission. She said we had to go meet someone."

"Is too. Ah know Mystique. Whenever she says she's goin' to go meet someone, 'specially when it's in the middle of the night, it's either to spring them from jail or get some weapons off them."

Fred looked confused, opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, shook his head and left the room.

Rogue looked equally confused as she had a fleeting vision of a kitchen table littered with guns and grenades. As she pulled on some exercise clothes, she mumbled, "Don't be stupid, girl, Mystique doesn't use guns. She... supplies them."

She blinked. She hadn't meant to say that last bit.

Todd, Fred and Lance were already in the Jeep when she left the boarding house, and the engine was running.

"Took your sweet time, didn't you?" cracked Todd.

"Shut it, Toad. And genius-men, ya forgot to lock the front door. Ya'd better be grateful Ah had mah key on me."

"Didn't bother me, I don't have any valuables," said Lance, who was driving as usual.

"Speak for yourself, mah guitar's in there. Now, why've you guys been so quick to jump out of bed and follow Mystique's orders? Not _scared_ of her, are ya?" Rogue sneered.

"No!" yelled Lance and Todd, at the same time Fred said, "We'd have to be stupid not to be scared of her."

The sky was vast and blue-black above them as they roared along deserted night streets, with Lance doing the occasional burnout just because he could. He was a teenage boy, after all.

They had arrived in the centre of Bayville, which would have been silent if not for the Jeep. Rogue rolled her eyes as she jumped out. "Holy crap, that engine. Mystique oughta fork out for a stealth vehicle, Ah reckon."

"Yeah, it ain't like she's spendin' her dough on clothes," said Toad, and he snickered shrilly until Lance kicked him, which Rogue appreciated.

"This the place?" asked Fred in hushed tones.

"Yeah," said Rogue before Lance could, snatching the piece of paper he'd written down Mystique's message on and squinting to make out his writing.

"We're waiting for someone," said Lance unnecessarily.

They stood, very tensely, for about two minutes before Lance, Todd and Fred all sat down on the pavement.

"Wouldn't put it past Mystique to get us out of bed just because she can," said Fred grumpily, propping his chin in his hand.

"You guys oughta be on the lookout," said Rogue disapprovingly.

"Sure we are, _mini-Mystique,_"Todd sneered.

Scowling, Rogue stared around. "Mystique ain't the joker type. Ah know someone's comin', just..."

"What?" Lance asked, drumming his hands on his knees.

"Wait."

"We _are _waitin'. Just 'cause we ain't standing at attention-" began Fred.

"_No,_ wait as in wait, Ah think Ah hear somethin'." Rogue rolled her eyes and squinted at the movement she had glimpsed at the other end of the street.

"Seriously?" asked Lance, frowning.

"'Bout time, I'm missin' out on my beauty sleep," whined Todd.

Rogue had about a million different wisecracks for a statement like that, but was too busy staring at the source of the movement. "Ah'm positive Ah saw somethin'..."

In the next moment, several different things happened. Lance stood up to join Rogue, only to be bowled over by a greenish blur. The street began to shake and several store windows cracked as Lance automatically let out some shockwaves. Rogue tripped over, hitting the pavement hard.

"Lance, stop it!" she shrieked. After a few moments the pavement quit vibrating.

Dimly, she could see some white-haired person wearing green cracking up laughing, so hard that the duffel bag he was carrying fell to the ground. "What the hell do ya think you're playin' at, ya geriatric- ya stupid-" Rogue faltered.

The boy- because she could see it was a boy now- smirked and said, "Do I look that old to you?"

"That kooky white hair makes ya look about a million years old," Lance said angrily.

"Let's get 'em," said Fred menacingly. He made a swipe for the boy, who ducked in a white and green blur and wagged a finger.

"Uh-uh, wouldn't do that if I were you, I'm too fast for any of you bozos," he said, without taking a breath. He then yelped as Rogue kicked him hard from behind.

"Hi," she said nastily as he turned around in disbelief.

He grinned. "I'll let you have that one. Only 'cause you're a girl, though."

It was the Brotherhood's turn to yelp as the deep voice of Mystique emanated from the shadows. "Thank you, Rogue, for putting our newest member in his place. God knows he needed that."

"OK, how long were you standing there?" demanded Lance.

"Long enough. However, now is _not _the time for an all-out riot, do you understand me? I want all of you in the Jeep, now and I want you heading home five minutes ago."

"How does that work out?" hissed Todd mutinously as they climbed into the Jeep. "Woman can't even tell the time."

"How are you gettin' home?" asked Rogue to Mystique, both of them ignoring Todd.

"Flying." Mystique promptly turned into a raven and winged away into the night sky.

The drive home was permeated by many yawns and mutinous looks toward the white-haired boy, who smirked and put his feet up on the back of Lance's seat. Rogue had to sit in the front because he'd taken her usual seat. She turned around to glower at him every so often.

The downstairs lights in the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House were all on. "You could've picked a better time to arrive," said Lance sourly to the boy as they headed for the house.

"I escaped from jail, I couldn't adjust that to fit in with your sleeping time." It seemed this new boy had smirked more in fifteen minutes than Rogue had in a few weeks. This made her hostile. Nobody was allowed to smirk better or more frequently than she.

They trooped through the door to find Mystique standing by the stairs. "Did we make OK time?" asked Rogue conversationally.

"No, not really. Lance, you should drive more aggressively."

__

Man, she shouldn't say that. If Lance drives any more aggressively than he does now we'll all be dead in a week.

Lance growled.

__

Less than a week, thought Rogue, slightly perturbed.

"Mystique, don't do that to us again," groaned Todd.

She rounded on him and he gulped. "Do you have something to say, Toad?"

"Nope."

"Excellent. Brotherhood of Mutants, this is your newest member. Introduce yourselves, please," said Mystique.

It felt rather like an etiquette lesson. "Lance Alvers- Avalanche," said Lance.

"Fred. Uh, Blob."

"Todd Tolensky, the Toad."

"Name's Pietro D. Maximoff," said the white-haired boy shortly. He shot the words out rapid-fire and extended a hand for Rogue to shake in greeting. When Rogue grudgingly went to take his hand he whipped it out of her reach.

__

Huh. Amateur. Rogue decided to put the boy in his place. Looking slowly up from the place his hand had been right up into his pale eyes, she spoke. "Nice name. What does the D stand for?" Her voice was innocent, but there was a don't-try-me-new-boy look on her face that served quite well in intimidating Pietro.

"Doesn't matter."

"Why?" she asked loftily, looking over her shoulder at the boys. They smirked, clued in as to what she was doing. Mystique watched silently.

"Just don't worry your pretty little brain about it, OK?" Pietro said, obviously thinking she was going to swoon or something.

Nothing doing. "If Ah've such a pretty brain as you say, why shouldn't Ah use it?" asked Rogue.

The boy smiled. "Call me Quicksilver."

"Ah go only by Rogue. See ya later, speed demon. Ah'm goin' to bed." Rogue walked upstairs.

She was aware that if any of the boys had walked out on a Brotherhood meeting like that, Mystique would probably have barked at them, at the very least. She wondered what it was about her that made Mystique favour her. The rides to school, the remembrance of her birthday- they couldn't just have been because she was a girl, or because she was the foster daughter of Mystique's friend.

- - -

DISCLAIMER: X-Men: Evolution does not belong to me. It belongs to Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, the WB, whoever you like. If it belonged to me, I would have had Gambit in the _Ascension _glimpse of the future.

NOTES: I am SO sorry about not getting this chapter up sooner. My home Internet got all screwed and I couldn't use it at all. I just checked my e-mail and felt very honoured by the nice reviews you people have been sending me. I thought I'd better get another chapter up before everyone lost interest in my little story.

I WENT TO AN OFFSPRING CONCERT! Oh my God, it was the coolest thing I've EVER seen- excepting, of course, the Evanescence concert I went to at the start of the year. It was like living a dream, because I've loved The Offspring since I was twelve years old. I went with my friend Helen- she co-wrote a story called _The Ragin' Ouch _with me, I believe Star-of-Chaos reviewed that one? Yeah. Helen's so cool; she's my best friend. :)

... Do you know how bloody hard it is to try and write while your little sister is watching _Beauty and the Beast _at top volume in the other room? Bloody friggin' _hell_...

Sorry if the timeline is a little screwed up. I think Pietro arrived at Bayville High for that basketball game on the same day as the B-hood's meeting with Darkholme, no? Well, in this fic he did. Smirk.

Note: I love Mystique. She's so fun to write.

... Heh, heh. I'm listening to my sister's video, and well- "There must be more than this provincial life!" "Just watch, I'm going to make Belle my wiiiife!" I'm terrible, I find the corniest things funny. I don't know if anyone remembers, but in an episode of _X-Men: The Animated Series _Sabretooth threatened Logan and Logan taunted, "Oooh, whaddya gonna do? Eat your spinach?" I swear, I was laughing my arse off at that. Ditto that one time _TAS_!Cyke was like to _TAS_!Rogue (via a communicator), "Can you see Bishop?" and she replied, watching him enter the building where I think Congress is in the States, "Ah could spit on 'em- if Ah wasn't a lady. Looks like he's runnin' for Congress." Oh, good Lord, that was another one I cracked up at. Also the other night I was at a sleepover of my friend's (happy birthday, Kelly, even though I know you're not going to read this your party was awesome!) and we watched _Scary Movie 3, _and I was fully dying with laughter at the President saying (about some rappers who just died), "They died for their country, send flowers to their bitches and hoes!" I am such a dork.

To the person who asked, _Fields of Innocence is_ in fact the song that begins _I still remember the world from the eyes of a child._ Sorry I can't mention you by name, but I'm offline as I write this.

I am a happy girl at the moment, what with regaining my Internet and getting _Ultimate X-Men: New Mutants Issue #44_ today._ God,_ that issue is good. The end was a real shock though. Also, I'm finally getting a move on with my novel. I love my novel good, I do. Trouble is, I haven't even finished the second chapter and I'm starting to worry it'll never get published because the characters (they're teenage girls) are too obnoxious. Sigh. Laters, all.

SONGS:

__

Beauty Queen by Lash. (I have this new appreciation for Lash. What with Rogue's birthday and all I am putting in lots of songs that have a sullen teenager air to them.)


	11. Chapter Ten: Life in Superspeed

Twice a week since the second week Rogue had been a Brotherhood girl, Mystique had put her through training with her powers. She would be driven out to some crowded place, like the mall or the train station, and given a map of Bayville to look over while Mystique went to find a likely-looking victim.

Mystique would return about half an hour later and lead Rogue to wherever the person was. Rogue would be made to ambush them, to touch their skin. Mystique would make a hasty exit as the person fainted, taking the map with her, and she would time Rogue as to how long it took her to reach home with someone else's memories and abilities clouding her brain. She knew it took Rogue an hour and a half on foot to get home from the mall and about forty-five minutes to arrive back at the boarding house from the train station.

Sometimes her attempts were truly shocking. The first time she'd gone through Mystique's training, Mystique left her in a park about fifteen minutes' brisk walk away from the house. It had taken Rogue _two and a half hours _to sort her head out and find home.

Sometimes her efforts would steadily improve until one day she'd have a complete relapse and take half the day to find home again. What scared Rogue about the procedure was that she never knew how her powers would react to someone until it was too late.

It was about eight PM on Monday evening when Rogue stumbled through the front door of the boarding house and into the kitchen, where Mystique was scribbling into a notebook. Upon hearing Rogue enter the room she pressed a button on her stopwatch. "An hour and fifty-eight minutes," she murmured, noting this in the book, and looked sharply up at Rogue, "Go and close the front door, Rogue."

"Noooo," groaned Rogue, sinking into a kitchen chair.

Mystique's murderous glare was at full power.

"Yes'm," Rogue said finally, getting up and staggering into the front hall to close and lock the front door. Returning to the kitchen, she stood and glowered at Mystique.

"What?" asked Mystique curtly.

"Do not _ever _make me absorb kids again."

"Kids? That girl looked at least your age."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't," Rogue bitched. "Are ya suggestin' Ah look like a frickin' grade schooler? 'Cause she was _eleven _goin' on twelve. She was also really, really unfit, had a shitty sense of direction and a huge fear of the dark, the little wuss."

Mystique did not apologise. Rogue sat down at the kitchen table and propped her chin in her hands.

"Hope that kid's mom was able to find her," said Rogue finally. "Ah mean, you hid her pretty good behind that clothes rack."

"Having an attack of conscience, Rogue?" asked Mystique, sounding amused.

"No." Rogue folded her arms.

"Are you interested in hearing my findings?"

"'Bout what?"

"Your progress, Rogue."

Rogue shrugged. "Sure, fine, whatever."

Mystique began to read aloud. "My controlled study of you over the past weeks has concluded that you react more strongly when you absorb women and girls. By women and girls I mean either very young ones, like the eleven-year-old today, or older ones- any female old enough to be your parent provokes a strong reaction."

"Explain."

"By 'a strong reaction', I mean that when you absorb women and girls you tend to become upset emotionally, panic, lose your sense of time or direction. You even display alarming personality changes."

"Alarmin' personality changes?" asked Rogue, raising her eyebrows.

"Like that, for instance." Mystique nodded at Rogue's foot, which was twitching spasmodically.

"So what?" Rogue asked harshly.

"I know for a fact you find people who twitch parts of their bodies exceptionally annoying, because you don't have that particular affliction yourself."

"Oh." Rogue stamped the foot hard on the ground, so hard that some of the dishes piled in the sink vibrated. Mystique flinched slightly at the noise, but smirked as the foot stopped twitching. "All better," Rogue said sardonically.

"But although we haven't had a chance to test it, I think you react the most strongly when you absorb mutants, regardless of age or gender."

"How do ya see that?"

"You have nightmares. You recall their memories for much longer than is strictly necessary."

Rogue wondered how Mystique knew about her nightmares. "Ah don't think mah powers always operate accordin' to what's _strictly necessary, _Mystique."

"Well, we'll have to redouble our efforts, won't we? They are your powers, Rogue. You must be in charge of them. I am confident with the right amount of practice you will be able to exert an amount of control over them."

"But Ah won't ever be able to control them completely, will Ah?" This was a statement more than a question. Rogue had accepted this long ago, without even confirming it.

Well, at that moment it felt like she accepted it, anyway.

"There's always a chance," said Mystique offhandedly. "Testing your power's capacities is very important right now if you're to grow with them. Now, Rogue, on that note, could you _run _out and buy some milk?"

Rogue gaped. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me! Ah'm exhausted, get one of the boys to do it!"

"They are all quite comfortable where they are, it seems."

"Can Ah at least take the Jeep?"

"Show me a driver's licence and you're welcome to, Rogue."

"You know Ah don't have one."

"Then why are you presuming you can take the Jeep?"

"Ah can drive just fine." _Just not legally, that's all._

"Too risky. Do you really want to discredit the esteemed principal of Bayville High?"

"Ah dunno. Will it mean Ah get to have a shower and go to bed? 'Cause if it does Ah reckon Ah'm good to go."

"Go on, Rogue, a very _fast_ run won't kill you."

"Yes, it fuckin' will!"

Mystique looked amused. "Figure it out, Rogue, will you?" She got up and gestured to the kitchen doorway.

Rogue cottoned on. Innocently, she rose to her feet and walked (somewhat painfully) to the kitchen door as if intending to walk on toward the front door. At the last second she swerved and walked to the living room, where Pietro sat watching television.

"Hey, Pietro," she said sweetly, leaning on the back of his chair.

"Hey, Rogue."

"Good show?"

"Stinks."

"Yeah, _CSI _does seem a little above and beyond you. You'd be more the _Will and Grace _type. What's goin' on?"

Pietro blabbed on and on at lightning speed about what had happened so far in the programme. "... so in conclusion, it stinks," he said matter-of-factly.

"Hmm." _Picky boy. _She could see Mystique standing in the doorway of the living room. "So Pietro, as this show's so damn _bad_..."

"What, Rogue?"

"Guess you won't mind missin' the rest of it," she said nastily, and slapped the back of his neck with her bare hand. She'd been easing her glove off while he'd been speaking.

As she saw him slump forward in a dead faint it felt like she'd been given an electric shock. She stared down at her bare hand, rotating it at the wrist. Rogue could see the muscles working as it seemed to move in super-slow motion. She looked up, blowing her forelock out of her eyes. It flailed upward slowly, _slowly... _it felt like it took ten minutes for it to fall again.

"Good work, Rogue. Time to test my theory," said Mystique. Rogue turned to look at her in midsentence, a feeling oddly like motion sickness (or, she supposed, _lack _of motion sickness) building in her stomach. Mystique's voice came at a normal pace but her mouth was still forming the first syllable.

"Don't make me stand here," said Rogue at a normal pace, and it felt like her vocal cords seized up. With barely a pause between words she asked, "Where's the money?" Speaking quickly made sense. It felt right.

"Kitchen table," said Mystique, and she had barely finished speaking when Rogue disappeared in a blur. Forcing her glove back onto her hand, Rogue flashed out through the front door with the milk money in her pocket.

_So this is the world through Pietro's eyes. No wonder Quicksilver always says us slowpokes make him sick, _Rogue thought as she shot through the night streets. A wonderful euphoric sensation built inside her, a kind of joy at going really, really fast. _Ah suppose he's used to it. He doesn't retch when he looks at us so much as sneer._

She heard traffic noises and went for them, and skidded to a halt at the pedestrian crossing. Two young women in clubbing gear looked surprised at her abrupt arrival. Rogue looked impatiently at the cars driving past, and had a brainwave.

_Ah wonder if the Speed Demon can outrun a movin' car? _she thought as she stepped off the kerb and got lost in the traffic.

It was truly uncanny, to dash between the cars with a sense that none of the drivers were even close to the speed limit. Rogue felt entirely safe. She could dodge oncoming vehicles with lightning precision and outstrip even the fastest models. She got a real kick out of slowing down just enough for a motorcycle gang to make out her form. As soon as they all turned to look at her, she swerved in front of them, and disappeared from that part of the road, hearing the yells of terror as they screeched to a halt, looking around for the girl they were sure they'd run down.

She found a mini-mart easily enough, ran in and found the dairy section. The checkout lines moved sickeningly slowly, so Rogue did the obvious thing. She scanned her two cartons of milk herself and left the money on the counter before leaving. Nobody had even seen her, because she moved that fast with Pietro's power.

When Rogue arrived home, she found she felt even more tired and pained than when she had set out. Pietro's energy wasn't boundless- he got tired just like everyone else. More than everyone else. _'Spose livin' your life in superspeed takes a lot outta ya,_ mused Rogue. _Maybe this is why the white-haired wonder likes sleepin' in so much._

As she put the milk in the fridge, she heard a noise behind her and found Mystique clutching the stopwatch. "It took you ten minutes," said Mystique, grinning. "Ten minutes to run all the way into town with no shortcuts. Pietro's own personal record is nine minutes."

"Ah scanned the milk mahself," Rogue stated.

"Pietro does too. Look inside your mind now, Rogue. Is anything there?"

Rogue knew what Mystique meant. Putting a hand to her temple, she said, "S'all- blurry. Like it's on fast-forward." _Is this the way Pietro thinks? The way he remembers things? Poor bastard. It's givin' me a migraine, so Heaven knows what it does to him. He's used to it, though._

"Hmm. Maybe Pietro wasn't the best person to use for this first test."

"Yeah, yeah, it's all a rich tapestry. Can Ah go to _bed _now?"

Mystique looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Go on, then."

"Thank you. 'Night, Mystique."

"Yes, goodnight, Rogue," said Mystique, waving her away. Rogue began to take her leave. "Sweet dreams," the shapeshifter said absently, studying her stopwatch.

Rogue stopped dead despite her tiredness. _Sweet dreams?_ "Mystique, did you just say somethin' to me?"

"I don't think so, Rogue," lied the shapeshifter smoothly. "Maybe you imagined it. You are very tired, after all. I've been overworking you."

It was a rare moment when Mystique admitting to overworking one of her disciples. But Rogue just had to push it. "You just said-"

"I said nothing. Go to bed, now."

Rogue resented being sent to bed like a child, but it would be unwise to say so. She nodded and went upstairs.

"Rogue?" called Fred through her bedroom door as she changed into what she called her 'evil neon pyjamas.' She had many sets of evil neon pyjamas- the ones she wore then were orange and white. Rogue looked down at herself, checking for exposed areas. _Neck. Face. Some of mah wrists. Feet. Belly. Won't do at all._

"Hang on, Ah'm not dressed!" replied Rogue. She couldn't decide what to cover up first, so she grabbed one of the blankets off her bed and pulled it around her shoulders like a cloak. Rogue was still wearing her gloves, of course. She never took them off until she knew everyone else in the house was asleep, or in their rooms at least. Lying awake was rarely difficult for Rogue. She was a restless sleeper at the best of times (at the worst she was a full-blown insomniac).

Opening the door, she asked, "What is it?"

"Pietro says you stole his powers. He wants me to tell you he's pissed."

"Never knew the boy would act like a martyr over missin' the end of _CSI_. As far as Ah could see it wasn't even a good episode."

Fred looked severe, and therefore slightly foolish. "Mystique told you to, didn't she? Don't do everything she says, Rogue."

"Mystique seems to be the only person around here with any brains, so why shouldn't Ah listen to her?" Rogue folded her arms. "You're annoyin' me, Fred. Get lost." She slammed the door in his face and threw the blanket back on her bed.

Why did the boys have to so touchy about Rogue and Mystique? And why did Mystique have to favour Rogue quite so obviously? It seemed Mystique cared about her, and the boys just slacked off and didn't listen to her. But then again, Mystique had ordered the boys to teach her a lesson when she had helped Summers and the X-Men against Fred.

She hadn't seen Summers for a few days. _Ah almost miss him, the big loser. He always gives me a good laugh._ The list of his annoying qualities had reached two hundred and twenty-eight, and she was considering turning him into a song.

She had a lot of homework she hadn't done. It looked like she would continue her shining record of being a completely mediocre student. She had, however, breezed through her French homework without much trouble at all. Rogue had always liked French.

In accordance to what Mystique had said earlier, Rogue found herself going over Pietro's memories as she lay in bed, waiting for the other Brotherhood members to go to bed. There was a strong one... he had probably been mulling over it as he watched TV, before Rogue had sapped his powers.

__

Two little children lay on their stomachs in front of a heater, playing a board game. Her _choice, of course. The TV was on, but neither one paid it any attention. The couch was set up with sleeping bags, because the girl had only recently destroyed the room they shared. Pietro didn't dare to say anything about it. He could run fast, but not always fast enough to escape the girl. He could always outrun her, but rarely escape her. No matter how fast he ran, she could always catch him and get her own back sooner or later._

He studied her under lowered eyelids, trying to pick out some sign of evil in her childish face. She had black hair and very blue eyes. You wouldn't think a witch would look like that, _he thought sourly. He had to be careful. If she caught him looking at her she'd ask why, and then he'd have to answer, and then there'd be trouble._

"Wanda?"

The girl playing the board game with Pietro looked up. "Yes, Father?" she asked guardedly.

A man, tall and powerful, stood in the doorway of the living room. "We have been at odds for days, Wanda. I want to make it right with you again. Get your coat, I'm taking you out for a surprise."

The girl was staring very hard at the white-haired man, trying to see if she should take him seriously. "... All right," she said finally.

A wave of fear swept over Pietro, and before he could stop himself he'd blurted, "I want to come too."

The man glared at him. They'd already discussed this. "But Pietro, this is Wanda's surprise. A special outing just for her. I'm afraid you can't_ come."_

"I want to come, Father," said Pietro. "I really, really need to be there."

His father's mouth twitched. "On Wanda's surprise?"

"Yes."

"Very well, then. Both _of you get your coats and meet me in the driveway in ten minutes. We have to hurry." Pietro could tell he was dying to make one of his accusing remarks, like, 'Get your coats- assuming, of course, they survived Wanda's latest temper tantrum.'_

For once, Wanda seemed completely oblivious as she pulled on her coat in the front hallway. "Come on, Pietro," she said in Transian, their first language. "I want to see what the surprise is."

He cringed. "You know it's probably going to be a boring restaurant or something."

When his eyes met Wanda's, Pietro flinched. Her cold blue eyes were narrowed in a menacing stare. "Don't screw this up for me, Pietro. It seems like Father really wants to make peace," she said in English.

"Aw, daddy's little demon. I'm not scared of you," he sneered.

"Please! Don't give me that. You're shaking, _Pietro," Wanda said witheringly._

"It's just the cold. It's raining outside and all."

"Stop whining. You don't have to come. I don't want_ you to come. It's my surprise. Mine."_

"Why do you even want to go?" Pietro asked desperately. "You hate Father."

"Friends close, enemies closer," Wanda said in a sing-song voice.

Why were they discussing such stupid matters now, of all times? Why were they parroting what their father, their mutual enemy, said to them every day? Only one Maximoff twin would be returning to the house that night. Only one...

"Come on, then," she sighed, opening the door. Pietro didn't move. Wanda glowered. "I make an effort to be nice to you, Pietro and you..." She cursed at him in Transian and left in a swirl of malice and unforgiving blue eyes.

He stood there, biting his lip. He hated Wanda sometimes, but he had to go with her on the 'surprise'. He knows how I feel. I've got to show him I need her. It won't be so bad, she'll probably be sedated, she won't even know what's happening and hey- maybe Father will let me say goodbye, _he thought, and followed her. He didn't even entertain the notion that his father might change his mind._

... And then, the memory went sort of hazy and frantic all at the same time. It was as if it was too painful to remember in its entirety. There was a lot of rain, and a big, dark Gothic building. There was the dark-haired girl, and suddenly she wasn't there any more in any way that counted. She wasn't the same person, she wasn't dark and angry and vengeful and a part of him. She was a terrified nine-year-old girl, her neat black hair drenched, being dragged up stone steps by men. In that moment he had silently begged her to unlock the powers that made her such a menace, but her powers were fuelled and activated by rage, not blind fear. And blind fear was all she had, as she was taken from him.

When those doors closed and they drove away, she suddenly wasn't there any more in any way at all.

__

Rogue entertained this memory for a few more minutes before pushing it away. She slept deeply for once, but not without dreaming of the rain and the girl's screams. By the next morning she had all but forgotten most of the details of the memory. She recalled a girl, and rain, and a darkly ominous building, not to mention a sense of loss and guilt. But not much else.

She ate breakfast with the other Brotherhood boys, and as usual she was dressed long before any of them. Excepting, of course, Pietro, who was never seen in his pyjamas. _Maybe he's so exhausted at the end of the day he doesn't even change his clothes when he falls into bed, _thought Rogue. Pietro and Rogue were making a definite point of not looking at each other.

Mystique had a new car. She pointed it out offhandedly through the window, and Rogue wondered idly where she'd gotten the money. "Cool ride, can Ah drive it?" she joked.

"Absolutely not."

_Bitch, _she thought, not exactly fondly.

In her room, she tried to weigh up who it was wiser to ally herself with: the boys or Mystique? Perhaps it didn't matter either way. Both entities could absolutely kick her ass if she crossed them.

_Let them try! Ah'll give 'em what's comin' to 'em, if they try and mess with me._ She brushed her hair with more vigour than was strictly necessary and for the last time checked her makeup. _Eyeshadow: good. Lipstick: fine. Face: good and pale, need a little more on mah jawline though._

After deeming her makeup pretty much good to go, she saw Pietro walking- actually _walking- _past her bedroom doorway. _Well, this is a once-in-a-lifetime happenin'. Pietro walkin' somewhere, wow._

_Oh, what the hell. _She stuck her head through the doorway, her backpack in her hand. "Maximoff, get in here," she called.

He swerved back, heading into her room. "You rang, Rogue?"

"You seem cheerful," she observed. "Fred reckoned you're pissed at me."

"Oh, I am. But I'm ready to hear your apology."

"Ah ain't about to apologise," snapped Rogue. Pietro looked affronted. "You need to get your defences up around me, Pietro, that's all Ah'm sayin'. Ah ain't about to make nice with you. Ah know why Ah'm here."

"In your bedroom?" quipped Pietro.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "In Bayville, bein' part of th' Brotherhood. Idiot. Have you even thought why you might be here?"

Pietro sneered maddeningly. "Bye, Rogue. See you at school." He began to take his leave.

She didn't know why she said what she said next. "Hey, Pietro?"

"Yeah?" He turned around.

"When Ah touched ya... absorbed your memories... Who was the girl?"

Pietro sneered. "I know a lot of girls, Rogue. Wanna narrow it down a bit?"

Rogue scowled at him. "Ah can't remember it too well now, ya cocky little brat, but she had dark hair... and she was your age. And there was a lot of rain, and this huge buildin'. Was it a hospital or somethin'?"

Pietro looked stunned.

"Doesn't ring a bell," he said after about ten seconds, though he looked very shaken.

"Ya sure?"

"Positive. Must've been a movie or something, y'know?" Pietro smoothed down his hair.

"Hey, ya do that any more and your hair's gonna start growin' back into your scalp," teased Rogue, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

Rogue turned around and picked up the luxury copy of _Dracula _she'd spent part of her sixteenth birthday present money on. She frowned as she ran her gloved palm over the leather cover with its studs.

"Is she your sister?" she found herself asking.

Silence from Pietro.

She shouldn't press the question. What remained of Pietro Maximoff in Rogue's mind was screaming at her that he did not want to remember that night, when the dark-haired girl had been taken away and locked up in that dark, ominous building. But the idea of Pietro with a family was so ridiculous to Rogue she was sure he'd answer 'no'.

"Ah said Pietro, was that girl your sist-" She turned around and stopped midsentence.

He had gone.

- - -

DISCLAIMER: _X-Men: Evolution _belongs to Marvel, Stan Lee, the WB, whoever you like. If it belonged to me, I would put more _XME _videos out where I live, because I only have _Mutants Rising _and the US has shitloads of them. Grumble. _CSI _and _Will and Grace _(I like the latter, haven't seen it in awhile though. I've never watched the former) don't belong to me either.

NOTES: I'm on HOLIDAYS, yay! Two weeks of no school! This means I'll be able to do loads of writing, and although most of my time will be devoted to my Novel, I will try and get a few more chapters of _Untouchable _up. My goal is to get all of Season One up, which I probably won't achieve but a girl can dream, can't she?

OK, can I just say that Bueno bars are the most delicious things on Earth? The company that makes them is doing a promotion, and they sent loads of free boxes to my big sister's work. She bought home ten, and I've stolen two out of her room already. Excuse me while I go and get another one...

... I'm back now. Bueno bar... yum... (End product placement there.)

Funny you should mention Godfried Adler, **Terminatrix T-X. **This year I decided to name my school locker- what else but Godfried Adler? My best friend named hers Lady Fred, and would you believe she has locker number 69? I NEVER pass up the opportunity to take the piss out of that.

In a sense, **Ivan Alias**, the songs I list are the background music. They are basically whichever songs I used to help inspire particular chapters. That's why some songs might be listed more than once, _capische_? I list them (with reasons why) in case anyone wants to write something in a similar vein and needs some music to inspire them. Plus I love compiling soundtracks for my works, everything from fanfics to novels.

Thank you to everyone for your good reviews. I'll try and have the new chapter done soon!


	12. Chapter Eleven: Rogue as Nancy Drew

The boys dropped Rogue off at her English class, almost bulldozing a trail through the choking crowds of students.

"Scary abnormal girl walkin'!" yelled one of the Poser's friends as Rogue walked past.

"Scary bitch! Everyone pray for mercy!" the Poser himself added. They crossed themselves and chuckled.

Rogue sighed and looked at the boys, who were standing way back. She gave them a pointed _Are you going to stick up for me? No? Didn't expect you to. _sort of look, then turned to the Poser and his minion. _Time to nip this thing in the bud, _she thought tiredly.

"Abnormal scary bitch, huh? Well, who on earth'd wanna be normal, may Ah ask, if bein' normal means bein' like you?" she asked loudly. Rogue began to walk away, but turned back for one final jibe. "And Ah think it's pathetic that you guys have to get your material from Nineties teen movies. If you've got half a brain between you, try and come up with somethin' original, hmm?"

Rogue walked away from the posers and from the Brotherhood boys, to her desk in the fourth row with several people looking at her half-interestedly. Now... which Nineties teen movie was it again? Rogue had a vague memory of finding a "Scary bitches!"... thing in a teen movie intensely annoying because she loathed the characters who did it, but she couldn't for the life of her remember which movie it was.

She sat down and saw a shadow fall across her books. "I'm glad someone finally told them off," said a low voice. "I'm just sorry it wasn't me."

Rogue looked up to see Scott Summers standing over her. "They had it comin'," she said evenly. She looked on in faint dismay as Summers put his books down on the empty desk next to her. "Hey, Mr Considerate. Ah could be savin' that seat for someone, y'know." Rogue glared.

Behind his shades, Scott Summers blinked deliberately. "Excuse me, is this seat taken, Miss Adler?" asked Summers with a hint of a smile.

"No."

She watched him settle himself in the seat and was surprised when Summers turned to speak with her. "Did you get your grade back for our Shakespeare bit, Rogue?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you go?"

Rogue sneered. "B plus." _Try to top that, ya giant leapin' nerd._ Politely, she asked, "You?"

"A minus. Acting isn't really my thing, after all." Summers shrugged. Rogue, who considered herself to be an all right actress, wanted to kick him. Him and the teacher who'd graded them.

She wrote herself a memo in her notebook. _Note to self: Rogue, what are you doing? You don't talk to X-Men. You don't, OK?_

For a few moments she thought. _Wonder why Summers doesn't like Matthews? You'd think they'd be really good friends. And it isn't as though Matthews is infringin' on Summers' chick territory. Shitloads more girls like Summers than they do Matthews, and Ah can't say Ah blame 'em. At least Summers doesn't have yellow hair and black eyebrows. Now, that is just _wrong_, havin' yellow hair and black eyebrows._

Plus, she continued, _Summers is so boring it's kind of perfect for him. You can rely on him to be boring no matter what the weather. Matthews- he'd throw his own mother to some alligators if it meant he could score with someone like Jean Grey or make some money out of it. Freaky black-eyebrows bastard._

"Matthews calls me a scary bitch to mah face. We know that. So what's your beef with him?" Rogue asked, looking sideways at Summers.

"We have a score to settle," Summers said darkly. His eyebrows furrowed and she knew Summers was glaring at the Poser.

... _The dumbest thing of all is, he probably has a killer glare behind those crappy shades, _Rogue thought in exasperation.Rogue Adler allowed herself to smile very, very slightly. _Oh, what the hell. _"We should talk," she said softly.

"We are talking."

"No- Ah mean-"

"Later, Rogue, OK? It looks like the teacher's gonna be late, and I'm taking advantage of that. I have some stuff to finish."

Rogue glowered. _Of all the nerve! _"There ain't gonna be a later, X-Geek," she said in a low voice, and when he shot her a sharp look she was innocently writing in her notebook.

__

Sometimes Ah really am the biggest fool, Rogue thought. She wrote that one down so she wouldn't get too big for her boots.

She didn't pay attention in that class, instead pouring out her thoughts to her notebook. Rogue would need a new one soon, but that wouldn't be a problem because she still had birthday money left. _Summers was a real dick not two seconds ago, you wouldn't believe what he said to me... Can't believe the amount of homework I have for tonight, as if I don't have enough on my mind already... Hope that little girl isn't still lying behind that clothes rack at the Bayville Galleria... The boys are getting on my nerves. They always expect me to back them up no matter what, but the second the Loser, the Poser or the Ditz starts in on me they're running scared, the wusses. They could crush the ones I've mentioned like bugs if they'd just get off their asses, and do they? Nooo. I'm not worried, though. I can take care of myself. But it'd be nice if they at least _wanted _to look out for me._

The period ended, and Rogue scooped up her things, leaving her notebook open on her desk. She was suddenly aware of a source of heat right next to her.

"What is it, Summers?" she asked bitchily, looking up at him. Dammit, why did he have to be so tall? You couldn't look him in the face unless you were a frickin' giantess like Jean Grey.

He smiled pleasantly. "I see my name," he stated, pointing down.

Rogue didn't understand. Then-

"You absolute _fuckbag,_" she exploded, using a word Fred sometimes called the other boys under his breath. Rogue grabbed the notebook and went to stamp on his foot, but Scott pulled it out of the way nanoseconds before collision.

_Stupid Summers and his stupid reflexes! _"And don't think for a moment Ah'm forgivin' ya for- for-" Rogue yelled at his retreating back.

"See you tomorrow, Rogue," he called, laughing.

_Don't think for a second Ah'm forgivin' ya, Summers, for makin' out like you're anythin' less than a boring loser X-Geek, _thought Rogue viciously. Then she blanched and finally made a face. _Oh, that's nasty. Ah just thought the words 'makin' out' in the same sentence as the word 'Summers'. That is _nasty.

She stood very still, watching him leave the classroom. _But no wonder, _she thought in disgust. _Look at that stupid way he walks, like he's try'n'a get me to check out his ass or somethin'. What a creep._ Her gaze fell to the floor, then travelled up slightly to see Scott Summers and his attention-seeking ass walking straight out the door. Rogue gave a growl of frustration and silently died from embarrassment when she realised it sounded like a dreamy sigh.

At lunchtime, Rogue went looking for the Brotherhood boys. When she saw them relieving some freshmen of their lunch money she suddenly knew she didn't want to sit with them. So with her luxury copy of _Dracula_ and her lunch Rogue set off in search of someplace to be alone.

There was a grassy area near the back of the school with a bunch of trees. She had sometimes gone through it when she had walked the last part of the way to school, back when Mystique used to give her rides. The sunlight felt warm, felt good on her face and Rogue felt so much better at being all alone she almost considered removing the baggy semi-transparent top she was wearing. Sunbathing seemed the most attractive prospect in the world. She had a black tank top on underneath, after all, so she'd be decent-

Decent, but not safe. _God, Rogue, are ya some kind of idiot? _Shaking her head at her own flights of fancy, she settled down under a tree. As a kind of self-punishment she picked out a spot with an awful lot of shade, so she felt a little cold. She adjusted to the temperature quickly, though, and read one of her favourite parts in the book- the part where Lucy Westernra had a stake hammered through her heart.

_Chilly, _she thought, imagining for the millionth time in her life the genteel Lucy Westernra biting the throats of little children. _Lucy turned into a real bitch once she died. _Rogue had for many years referred to the characters by their first names. She had used to reference the book so many times around Irene that Irene called the characters by their first names as well.

She tried not to think of Irene. _Ah'll get to call her this week. Right now is mah alone time. Nothin' gets between me and mah alone time._

But something did.

Rogue wrinkled her nose at the acrid stench of brimstone that pervaded the air. _Oh, gross!_ "Huh? Ugh..." she mumbled, and turned her head toward the source of the odour. A stairway in the side of the building led down to what must be the school basement. Rogue left her novel at the foot of the tree and walked to the top of the steps, taking in the bitter smell with distaste.

Smoke was curling its way up the stairs and Rogue froze as she heard someone moving around down in the basement. _Ah feel like Nancy Drew, _she thought dryly as she made her way down the stairs. "Who's there?" Rogue called forcefully.

BAMF. Another powerful wave of brimstone washed through the dank, suffocating air of the school basement, and Rogue choked. "Oh, _that's_ gross," she whined, putting her hands on her hips.

_With a bit of cleanin' up, this place'd be a nice readin' room, _Rogue thought, staring around. _Just bring a light and somethin' to sit on, and Ah'm set. Heh. ... Hey, what's that?_

A door marked STAY OUT was at the far end of the room. Rogue's curiosity overcame her, and she headed towards it. She had just reached it when-

BOOM.

Rogue dived aside as an explosion rocked the basement. A mushroom cloud of flame and smoke erupted out of the STAY OUT door, which swung wildly ajar, and a blue blur flew out, into a pile of boxes.

_Mystique? _thought Rogue as she recovered, glancing up at the ceiling to check it wasn't about to collapse. _No- it's Wagner! Christ, why didn't Ah guess?_

Rogue rushed over, concerned. _Which is perfectly understandable. He might be a blue-furred assassin freakboy, but Ah don't wanna be poppin' anyone's shoulder back in. If he's OK, Ah'll split. If he's not, Ah'll split. Yeah. Yep. Absolutely._

None of this actually came out of her mouth. What Rogue said was, "Hey! Hey, are you OK? What happened?"

Wagner's eyes fluttered open, and Rogue was relieved to see he appeared unharmed. "Uh, lab.. booby-trapped," he mumbled in his thick German accent.

"Lab?" asked Rogue, raising her eyebrows. _This I gotta see._ She left Wagner on the boxes and tiptoed through the ashy doorway.

It wasn't anything spectacular. Just a bunch of outdated computers. But the idea that anything _booby-trapped _could be underneath as boring a place as Bayville High was extraordinary. There must be a big secret to this stuff. "Whoa," Rogue murmured.

The computers were shattered, crackling electrical currents surging from them every now and then. "Whatever this stuff was, it's thrashed now... except for this." Rogue was referring to a device sitting out very innocently. She picked it up and examined it, and heard Wagner come up behind her.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked shrewdly as Rogue tensed, realising she was alone with a dangerous X-Man.

_Time to put him in his place. _Sneering at him, she scoffed, "Huh! Look who's talkin'. At least _Ah_ didn't blow the place up."

Wagner glared, then snatched at the device. "Hey! Let go of that!" he yelled. Kurt Wagner grabbed hold of it, and the two mutant teenagers tussled over it for a few seconds. He was surprisingly strong for such a wiry boy.

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "Back off, blue boy," she said in a hard voice. "Who says you're in charge here?" _Ah'll show him!_

With a burst of strength, Rogue hauled the machine out of Wagner's grasp. The force caused her to stagger backward, and as she tried to retain her grip on her prize something- happened. Humming, the device lit up with power and shot something like a huge pink bubble at the teleporting mutant. It consumed him; he gave a shout of surprise and then- nothing. The bubble disappeared and so did Wagner.

Numb, Rogue clung to the machine for support before realising that- she was holding onto the _machine _for support. She heard herself gasp involuntarily and chucked the device away from her. There was a small crash as it hit the floor and Rogue stepped forward, slicing her hand through the place where Wagner had been standing. Some shiny residue hung in the air, but apart from that there was nothing.

It sunk in. _Oh mah... God. Ah... Ah think Ah just killed a guy. Ah just- _killed _someone. Oh mah God._

"He's gone!" Rogue whispered in horror.

_Ah just killed a guy!_

- - -

DISCLAIMER: _X-Men: Evolution _does not belong to me. It is the property of Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, the WB, whoever you like. Not me. If it were mine, I would make the characters give loads of interviews to the press.

NOTES: Before anyone says it, I come from Australia and I have British heritage. So when I write _favourite _or _all right, _these aren't considered spelling mistakes where I come from. Now, I'm trying very hard to keep the American expression in this story on target. I don't think I'm doing a bad job, exactly, although at times the characters talk too much like Australians. I suppose we all talk alike now, because American culture has taken over the world and Aussie girls at my school can be heard saying that things are _wack, _that it is _their bad_ or even that they are going to go out _flossing with their peeps, yo._

Um, no, I actually exaggerated that last one. But can I just ask something? You know how American rappers call girls shorties? Well, what do they call them if they're tall? My friends and I constantly giggle over our favourite mental image of a weedy rapper guy hitting on a very tall, gorgeous, Tyra Banks type in a club and beginning his seduction with, "'Sup, shortie?" and her (offended) replying, "Who the fuck are you calling shorty?" and drop-kicking him. _Shortie. _That's a crack-up.

(And no, I have never in my life been referred to as a _sheila_. Sheila is a girls' name, not a gender.)

Guess what? You know that reply to the Eamon song by Frankee, how it's called _Fuck You Right Back _and its acronym is _F.U.R.B._? I think it'd be hilarious if they changed it to _Fuck You Right Back, Yo_ so the initial could be _F.U.R.B.Y._!

... What? What do you mean, you don't know what I'm talking about? Furby! You know, the weird little interactive toys that looked like hybrids of owls and kangaroo rats? The ones kids used to take to school back in the late Nineties and annoy the hell out of their teachers with? (That's what happened at my school, anyway. My best friend's Furby was locked in the cupboard with someone else's Furby and the two Furbies spent the whole lesson 'talking' to each other in Furbish, heh heh.)

Right. Now that I've successfully offended every single American on the site, I can say some non-offensive stuff. Expect about a chapter a week from now on, because my holidays are ending soon. I know I said I was going to try and finish Season One, but I've been really busy with my friends. We saw _The Stepford Wives. _Excellent movie, that. Everyone go see it, now. I mean, the exchange, "Only castrating Manhattan career bitches wear black, now is that what you want to be?" "Ever since I was a little girl." definitely wins the award for My Favourite Movie Line/Exchange of the year. (Back when _Shrek _first came out it was, "Some of you may die, but it's a sacrifice I am willing to make.")

I'd like to plug one of my new favourite _XME _authors, Rurouni Tyriel. His fics are beyond incredible- they have just the right mix of action, humour, angst and romance. They are heavy with Jean/Scott, Tabby/Amara, Sam/Rahne, Evan/Callisto, Kurt/Amanda, Lance/Kitty and a little Rogue/Remy, though, so I'd be hesitant to check them out if I didn't like those pairings. I personally recommend _Nightmares. _It is just about the scariest _XME _fic I've _ever _read. I also particularly recommend Nullification and _Annihilation_.

Are you finding good _XME _fan music videos hard to come by? They have amazing ones over at http:alternate-evolution/media1.htm. My favourites would have to be the _Ascension _trailer (because I'm completely addicted to it, basically), _The Impact of Rage _(Rogue/Kurt/Mystique-centric video, which needless to say I loved), the one set to _What's This _from _The Nightmare Before Christmas _(because it's absolutely hilarious) and _Get the Party Started _featuring the Bayville Sirens (because me, my little brother _and _my little sister are _all _completely addicted to it).

Also, I am figuring out a Tabitha fic and maybe a Wanda fic. I am planning a Mystique fic to coincide with later chapters of this here story, and a big slightly AU project for when this story is finished, or maybe before. All while writing my novel. I'm a busy girl, but I love writing more than anything in the world.

The Nineties movie Duncan and his friend got their material from is _The Craft. The Craft_ will feature again in a distant chapter.

I own a humungous hardcover book, **lovewolf44**, called the _Ultimate Guide to the X-Men. _In it, it says that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff grew up in an Eastern European country called Transia. I am pretty sure it doesn't exist in the way Asteroid M doesn't exist, but there's just something wonderful about English being Wanda and Pietro's second language. Don't ask me to explain it. My novel, since you asked, isn't really anything special. It's just a sarcastic variation on your normal teen fiction where all the principal characters are students at an Australian, single-sex, Catholic private school and they swear far, far too much. If I ever do get it published, I shall have to put in the author's notes: _To my school- apologies, but you really were asking for it._

**Terminatrix T-X**,I am honoured you nearly cried at the last chapter... as twisted as that sounds. But thank you for being so honest, it was really touching. I am not familiar with that song, but I'm pretty sure my older sister has a Dixie Chicks album lying around somewhere. If so, I'll give it a listen.

Wow! These are possibly my most ramblesome notes _ever_! Are you proud, **ishandahalf**?


	13. Chapter Twelve: Sullen Killer

The only word to describe Rogue at the moment she had obliterated Kurt Wagner off the face of the earth (or the school, at least) was numb. The only thing she could really remember thinking later on was about getting rid of the murder weapon.

She felt like she blacked out. One moment she was staring vainly at the glittery residue hanging in the space where Wagner had stood moments before, the next she was bearing the device (dangling off a stick) to a dumpster. Rogue held it at arm's length and for the first time in what must have been ten minutes a coherent thought flitted through her brain.

_Ah wonder if how this is all killers get started? _she thought as she weaved through the uncut grass, and grimaced. No. No, she wasn't a killer! _It was an accident, Ah didn't mean- it was- Ah killed a guy, oh God..._

She dimly registered a person standing in front of her. It was Todd. A short surge of terror and guilt made her hastily pitch the device at the dumpster, but it fell short and clattered to the ground. Rogue cowered, praying to any deities that hadn't condemned her to whatever pit of Hell their religion was responsible for that it wouldn't go off and swallow her up too.

"Ooh, what's this?" Todd asked curiously. He went to pick it up and Rogue gasped.

"Don't touch it!" she cried out, fighting an urge to shove him backwards.

Todd raised his eyebrows. It made him look buffoonish rather than intimidating. "Why not?"

"It's- never you mind. Just... leave it alone." Rogue was shaking. She felt light-headed and sick with fear. _Ah need to sit down._

The toadish teenager sneered, "Aw, whatsamatter? Little Rogue get into some trouble?"

At that moment, Rogue seriously considered adding another victim to her hitlist. But there was nothing like being taunted by another Brotherhood member to bring her sharply back to earth. _Pull yourself together, girl, _she thought as she picked up the device and dropped it briskly into the dumpster. A foul, steaming cloud stinking of garbage seemed to rise up and cling to her face, her clothes. She felt dirty and disgusting, but Rogue forced herself to keep cool.

"Trouble? No!" she scoffed. "There's just one less X-Man to push us around." Briskly, Rogue dusted off her hands.

Todd gaped. "Say what? You mean you toasted one of them goody-goods with that thing? Wicked."

_Don't let him get any bright ideas, _she pleaded silently. Outwardly, she got in Todd's face and snarled, "Hey, just leave it alone! Ya got it, swamp breath?" She turned on her heel and stormed away

She ran after that. Rogue didn't know why. It wasn't as if anyone knew Wagner was gone yet. It wasn't as if Rogue was going to get caught. Nobody would ever know, as long as she didn't blab. Or Todd didn't.

Maybe that was why she felt so sick with shame and fear.

As she picked up her copy of _Dracula _and walked (somewhat shakily) back toward the school buildings, she tried to rationalise the situation. _Technically, Ah haven't- well, it wasn't mah fault Wagner got in the way of the machine. If he'd been smarter he would've handed it over to me. Ah haven't killed anybody._

Rogue spent the remaining fifteen minutes of lunchtime inside the girls' bathroom, and she was so wrapped up in her thoughts she nearly jumped out of her skin when the bell rang. She bit at her lip when she went to exit the bathroom, then experienced a powerful wave of nausea and spent the next few minutes retching into one of the toilets. She didn't throw up because she hadn't eaten anything much that day, but she felt like she was made of tissue paper. Her mouth tasted awful and her skin had gone a delicate shade of green.

She moaned and sat shaking on the floor of the stall, until she was aware of someone standing outside the door.

"Piss off, Ah'm in here. All the other stalls are free," yelled Rogue in something like her normal voice.

"Are you OK?" asked the girl on the other side of the door.

"Duh. Now, get lost!"

"No, come on out here. If you're sick I can take you to the nurse."

"Ah'm not goin' to the nurse. Piss _off_."

The girl hesitated. "Please come out. Just so I can see you're OK."

After a decades-long pause, Rogue unlocked the door, got to her feet and stepped out, looking the other girl defiantly in the face. "See? Ah'm fine. Can you please go away?"

The girl beamed. "Sweetie, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Rogue seriously objected to being called _sweetie _by anyone, particularly someone her own age. She just mumbled something and went to the sinks, bracing herself on them.

The girl followed her. "Do you want some more help?"

Rogue recognised her. It was the girl from the Ditz's entourage who had to stand at the side as a punishment for having a vocabulary beyond that of a seven-year-old child. "Is this what do you do all day? Traipse around _helpin' _people?" she asked witheringly.

The girl shrugged, embarrassed. "If you don't want the nurse, that's OK. But I'll walk you to your next class."

"Uggggh..." moaned Rogue, not looking at her.

"Throwing up's really awful, isn't it? Especially at school," the girl said sympathetically. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the nurse?"

"You remind me of someone," Rogue said, trying to shut her up.

The girl grinned. "Yeah, everyone says that. You know Principal Darkholme's secretary, Dorothy? She's my big sister."

Rogue almost managed to smirk. "... That explains _so_ much."

"My name is Katy. What's yours?"

"Rogue." _Although in the near future you may know me by the number on the back of my fetchin' orange jumpsuit, _Rogue thought, and cringed.

"Wow, that's a really unusual name. It's so much cooler than Dorothy or Katy. When Dorothy was in school, everyone used to make jokes about Toto or Auntie Em when they saw her coming. It really didn't help that our parents are from Kansas." Rogue picked apart her words for some trace of sarcasm, and found none.

"Great," was all Rogue could manage. She peeled off her gloves and ran water into her cupped hands. She splashed her face and froze with water dripping off her. _Yeah, really great. As if enough hasn't happened, all mah makeup is runnin'._

"Um, Rogue?"

"What?"

"You... weren't throwing up 'cause... you didn't make yourself throw up, did you? Because you really don't need to lose any weight, Rogue. Really." Katy-the-younger-sister-of-Dorothy-the-Perky-Secretary's eyes were round and earnest.

"Gimme a break!" cried Rogue. Reminding herself that Katy-the-younger-sister-of-Dorothy-the-Perky-Secretary was only trying to help, she said, "Ah just felt sick, that's all. Didn't even throw up, 'cause Ah haven't eaten anything much today."

Katy the- aw, screw it. Katy raised her eyebrows a fraction, and Rogue felt like hitting her head on the sinks. _Now, why'd Ah have to say it that way? Now the Good Samaritan of Bayville High thinks Ah have an eatin' disorder. This is really a case of open mouth, insert foot._

"Bye," mumbled Rogue, and she walked out the door of the bathroom only to hear Katy follow. "Uh, why are ya still here?"

"I said I'd walk you to your next class."

"Look, it's real nice of you an' all, Katy, but Ah'm feelin' a whole lot better now so you can just run along, 'K? 'Sides, Ah have to- go to my locker."

"I have loads of time. I can go with you."

"But Ah'm _fine_." Rogue clenched her fists.

She walked as briskly as her weak legs would take her for a few hallways, trying to lose Katy. Finally, she realised the obvious thing to do.

"Oh mah God, look! Someone in peril!"

"Huh?" asked Katy, looking around frantically. "Where? I don't see anybody."

"They went that way!" Rogue said impatiently, pointing back down the hallway. "A girl. With brown hair. Ah think she was cryin'."

"I'd better go help," said Katy without so much as a hint of weariness or exasperation. She sounded determined. _Future job for Katy: social worker, _Rogue thought with faint amusement. She pasted a look of innocence on her face as Katy turned back to her. "Will you be all right, Rogue?" Katy asked.

"Sure, sure, Ah feel much better already. Now go on, or she'll get away!"

"OK. Hope you feel better soon, Rogue. Come and find me if you- well, whatever you need. Bye!" Katy sped off in the direction of the nonexistent girl in trouble.

Rogue watched her go. _Sweet girl. Kinda gullible, but sweet._

Feeling less ill at ease, Rogue darted into the shadow of some lockers when she saw the flash of red that was one's first peripheral glance of Jean Grey. _Don't be an idiot, _she scolded herself. _They probably haven't even noticed their guy disappeared yet._

Rogue's guts turned to ice as she heard Summers say matter-of-factly to Grey, "... You'd better contact him. Tell him to knock it off!"

_The girl must be able to read minds into the bargain. Some people get everything, _Rogue thought sourly. Then she blanched. Jean Grey must be... _scanning, _or something, to find Kurt Wagner.

_Ah didn't kill anybody. Technically, Ah didn't hurt or kill anybody. Ah didn't-_

"Hmm," Grey said. "Scott, I can't pick up a trace of Kurt anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Rogue felt like her own death had just been sentenced. _Oh, Christ. It's true. Ah killed the poor blue freak. Ah _killed _him._

Scott said, "Try again. He's gotta be somewhere."

"I am. I'm not getting anything. He's just completely gone."

_Shut up, shut up, shut up! _Rogue thought wretchedly.

"Or.. somebody did somethin' to him," said Summers shrewdly. Rogue almost expected him to peer around the lockers, cry out, 'Aha!' and beat the shit out of her.

But no... Rogue heard him pacing away. When she tentatively peeked around the edge of the lockers she spotted Summers talking with Lance and Fred.

"Where's Kurt?" asked Summers angrily.

Fred sneered. "Heh. Yeah, like we'd tell you." Fred crosses his arms and Lance leans on him and the both of them gave their evil Brotherhood sneers a real workout.

Scott Summers flung himself at them in a rage, and Rogue felt like hitting her head against something again. Particularly when Grey squealed, "Scott, no!"

_Wonderful. Now Summers is beatin' on Lance. Ah've gotta stay cool. Lance is a big boy, he can handle himself. Ah'll just go to mah locker and apply some makeup like nothin' outta the ordinary is goin' on._

Rogue kept her eyes carefully averted from the escalating tension at the other end of the hallway. Summers had Lance up against some more lockers. "I said, where is he?" bellowed Summers.

_Future career for Summers: interrogator of terrorists, _Rogue thought, wincing.

Lance yelled, "Get offa me!" Rogue could practically hear the sounds of ribs cracking. _Wonder why Lance hasn't thrown Summers off? Summers must be really strong, _mused Rogue, reapplying lipstick using the little mirror she'd stuck inside her locker for that express purpose. She felt like writing _MURDERER _in capitals on her forehead with purple lipstick. _Ah deserve it, _she thought bitterly.

"What have you done with Kurt?" Summers was saying roughly.

Fred lifted Summers up into the air by the collar. "Get lost, slim!"

Grey looked all protective. "Put him down!"

_She's got guts, gettin' in his face after he kidnapped her an' all, _Rogue thought grudgingly, and replaced the top on her tube of lipstick.

Lance got into Jean's face. "Back _off,_ Red, or I'll rock ya."

_Oh, he- no. He wouldn't. He's not that stupid!_

The lockers started to shake. Rogue watched in dismay as the things inside her own locker began to quake and jump about.

_Ah stand corrected, _she thought dryly. Knowing Lance's tendency to go ever-so-slightly overboard when it came to his powers, Rogue braced herself on her locker.

"Fight, fight, fight!" chanted random kids as the X-Men and Brotherhood members seemed ready to kill each other. Rogue wondered how the hell the bystanders didn't even _notice _the fact that trash up on top of the lockers had begun to fall off.

_Anyone who's listenin'- just send some help, _pleaded Rogue silently. It was all so silly, so average, so uncertain and yet it seemed to the unnaturally stressed girl like her life had transformed into some terrible nightmare in the last hour or so.

"_What _is going on here?" roared the voice of Principal Darkholme.

_Huh. Close enough, Ah guess, _Rogue thought, standing with her back to everyone and her heart beating a tune against her ribs.

The other kids scattered as the tremors abruptly stopped. None of them were keen to get linked with the fight.

Fred (still clutching Summers by the collar), said indignantly, "We weren't doin' nothin'!"

Lance nodded emphatically. "Yeah! Summers here just went ballistic on us for no reason!"

Smirking, Fred saw fit to put Summers down at last. Summers ran a hand through his hair and said angrily, "Oh, I've got a reason!"

He looked like he was about to start pounding Lance again, and Grey snatched a firm hold of his arm. "Scott..." she said warningly.

Principal Darkholme looked faintly amused and pissed off at the same time. "Quiet! You two- in my office, _now_."

Sticking their chins out obstinately, Grey and Summers began to follow Darkholme away. Lance gave them an L-for-loser signal and sniggered.

Darkholme and the two X-Men continued along the hall, past Rogue's locker. _Stop lookin' so suspicious, _she scolded herself. _Nobody knows what happened with Wagner 'cept you. And Todd, but Ah'm gonna find him and make sure he ain't tellin'. _She glared at Summers and Grey.

Rogue finished applying her makeup and with every appearance of someone calm and collected, she neatened up her locker a little before closing and locking it.

_OK. Now, what should Ah do? Ah've gotta keep mah cool._ Rogue needed help, and there was only one place she knew to get it. She began to walk, briskly as she could without breaking into a run, toward Principal Darkholme's office.

Dorothy the Perky Secretary was doing some typing as Rogue slunk into the waiting area.

"Um... Dorothy?" said Rogue hesitantly, bracing herself for the perkiness to come.

Dorothy beamed up at her. "Hello, hon. May I help you?" enquired Dorothy.

Rogue fidgeted. "Uh. Yeah. Well. Ah need to make an appointment with- um..."

There was a small crash as the door of the principal's office swung open and Darkholme charged out. She roared, "Dorothy!"

Dorothy flinched. _Looks like she's kinda scared of Darkholme. She's smarter than she looks, then. _"Yes, Miss Darkholme?" she asked weakly.

"Dorothy, someone has removed all my furniture from my office since last I was in it. Do you have an explanation for me?"

"I'm afraid not," mollified Dorothy the Perky Secretary. "Nobody came and removed your furniture, not while I was here. Are you sure it wasn't removed before I started my shift this morning?"

"The furniture was not _intended _to be removed," said Darkholme in a low, dangerous voice.

"Maybe it was repossessed," volunteered Rogue, snickering. In the face of everything that had happened, she needed a laugh.

"Yes, maybe it was-" echoed Dorothy.

"Are you suggesting my furniture was not paid for in full?" boomed Darkholme. Dorothy looked mortified.

"N-N-N-Noooo," whispered Dorothy, scooting backwards on her office chair and looking longingly at the nearest window as if she intended to jump out of it.

Darkholme growled and stomped away. Rogue sneered. "Thanks, Dorothy. That's all Ah needed." Rogue rushed after Principal Darkholme.

"Principal Darkholme!" she called vainly, struggling to keep up as Darkholme went out into the hall, dialling her phone.

"Aren't you meant to be in class, Rogue?" asked Darkholme waspishly. "Run along, I have to find out where my furniture went."

"But Miss Darkholme-"

"Run _along, _Rogue."

Rogue grabbed the principal's arm, desperate. "Mystique, _please,_" she begged.

Darkholme froze and wrenched Rogue's hands roughly from her arm. "I have told the boys repeatedly not to call me that on school grounds. I wouldn't have expected it of you, Rogue."

Waving a gloved hand dismissively, Rogue snapped, "Well, Ah wouldn't say it unless Ah needed ya to listen. Now, there's been an accident."

"I don't suppose it involves my disappeared furniture, does it?" said Darkholme snidely, putting her hands on her hips.

Rogue blinked, having figured out a way to get through to her.

"It might," she said slyly.

Darkholme raised an eyebrow. "You have my full and undivided attention, Rogue."

"Ah went down into the school basement 'cause Ah- heard somethin'. Turned out one of th' X-Men went down there and set off some kinda explosive. The only thing that survived was this little gadget thing. There was a fight and- it went off. And he disappeared."

"Which X-Man?" asked Darkholme in a hushed voice.

"Kurt Wagner," said Rogue promptly.

If Darkholme recognised the name, she didn't show it. "So you believe the Wagner boy has been- sent somewhere else because of this device?"

Rogue greatly appreciated Darkholme not saying the word _killed _or _murdered._ "Exactly."

"Where is this machine now?" Principal Darkholme asked.

"Ah tossed it in a dumpster 'round the back of the school, but Todd was there. Ah think he might have gotten hold of it and-"

"That would explain my missing furniture," mused Darkholme. She drew something out of her pocket and motioned for Rogue to turn around. Placing a slip of paper against Rogue's back, she scribbled something on it and handed it to her.

"What's this?" asked Rogue, studying the paper.

"It's a personal note from the principal and your guardian- seeing as I am both whilst you live at the Brotherhood Boarding House- excusing you from afternoon classes. I want you to investigate the situation at hand, concluding what transpired regarding both the Wagner boy and my furniture. When school lets out, the other boys and myself will join the search."

"In layman's terms?"

"Find the device and Todd." Darkholme turned sharply and began to walk away.

"'Course, ma'am," Rogue said solemnly. "Uh, ma'am?" she called.

Darkholme turned. "Yes?"

"What's- gonna happen to me? If Wagner doesn't come back, Ah mean..."

Darkholme gave her own approximation. "I'm sure it was no more your fault he _disappeared _than it was mine, or Dorothy's, or the current president's," she said matter-of-factly. "We'll sort it out, Rogue, don't worry. Now, go on."

Rogue managed to smile. "Thank you, Principal Darkholme," Rogue called as she left. She felt a little better, now that she had some control over the situation. It didn't make her any less of a murderer, but-

_Don't think about that, _she ordered herself as she shivered. She had to be on task.

Now, to find Todd...

- - -

DISCLAIMER: _X-Men: Evolution _doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Marvel Comics, Stan Lee, the WB, whoever you like. If it were mine, I'd have had more airtime of Rogue's time with the Brotherhood.

NOTES: Yeah, I know in the bit where Rogue is in the hallway with the Brotherhood, Jean and Scott she's fully made up as per usual, but that's just the way this turned out.

You know how everyone always calls Mystique a psycho bitch? Well, a friend and I were in a shop in the town where I live that sells t-shirts, stickers and caps with vulgar messages. I was looking at the women's shirts rack when I saw a shirt with _Psycho Bitch _emblazoned proudly across the front and nearly burst out laughing. _Christmas pressie for Mystique! _I thought, trying not to giggle.

I promptly made a little mental shopping list of all the t-shirts, and which characters I'd buy 'em for. For Jean: a shirt that says _bondage queen. _(This is funny if you read _It's Good To Be The Rogue _by Red Witch). For Wanda: a shirt that says _Do I look like a fucking people person? _For Rogue: a shirt that says _If you think I'm a bitch, you should meet my mother._

Sorry for the huge amounts of typos in the last chapter. I'll fix 'em before I go back to school on Monday.

You think Rogue should throw stuff at the Poser, **Terminatrix T-X**? Nice idea. I hope you don't mind if I slip it in somewhere. I have the Updated Edition too, I got it for Christmas last year. And my best friend plays the cello.

Thanks for your review, **Star-of-Chaos**. I'd wondered if you were still reading this, so the two reviews you sent me were a lovely surprise.

Cheers for the gold star, **ishandahalf**. Where are you from, anyway? Don't give a street address or nothin', just the country would be nice.

I agree, _The Craft _is awesome, **epona04**. I rented it when my friends stayed over this weekend, along with _The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Birdcage _and a tape of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer. _When we were at the video rental place, the song _Stayin' Alive _came on the speakers and we started dancing around the place, shrieking with laughter. :) Good times.

Thanks also to **enchantedlight **and **Ivan Alias**. I love all of your reviews, they are such a help. I'll try and get the next chapter up soon. On a completely unrelated note, I have a Livejournal at last if anybody's interested, which I doubt anyone is. (Oh, how I love being self-deprecating.) Laters!

SONGS:

_The Beautiful People _by Marilyn Manson.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Pale Skin, Dark Deeds

After Rogue had gone and packed her backpack, stowing it at the foot of the tree she always read under, she set off on her investigation. Rogue's first stop was the dumpster where she'd ditched the device. Grimacing, she located the stick she'd used to carry it and began to shift the contents around.

_Ah think it's safe to say it's gone. Ah just bet it was that slimy bastard Todd that stole it._ Rogue chucked the stick into the dumpster with more effort than was really necessary, a low growl of frustration escaping her.

_Think like Todd, think like Todd. If Ah was him and Ah had a machine that pulverises people and things, where would Ah go?_

Rogue went on a long walk that took up most of the final periods of the day, looking in all the places she suspected Todd would go and not finding him in any of them. When the bell for the end of school rang and the Bayville High students flooded out, Rogue sat and watched them leave. Within forty-five minutes the school seemed to be empty.

Poor Wagner. Ah suppose he wasn't so much of a shithead as the other X-Men. If Ah went in for all that laughter- stuff, Ah probably would've liked him a lot, Rogue thought mournfully. _Pity he was an X-Man. Pity he had to..._

Ah'm such a little bitch. Ah killed him. People don't deserve to live themselves if they do somethin' like that. But it was an accident! Ah didn't mean to...

Rogue flinched and looked up sharply as she heard a commotion coming from the grassy area nearby. Her narrowed eyes widened with surprise and a chill ran through her as she heard a familiar sound- that of the device being activated. _Todd! _Before she knew it, she had jumped to her feet and ran off in the direction of the noise.

She seemed to intrude upon a very odd scene. The X-Men were running along after a frantically hopping Todd Tolensky, wearing their kooky battle uniforms. Rogue skidded to a halt to watch for a few moments.

"Shadowcat, down!" bellowed Jean Grey as Todd fired the device at the slight freshman girl, Kitty Pryde. Pryde simply sunk down into the ground, her brown ponytail waving like a banner as she dropped.

"Get 'em!" shouted Summers, the obvious leader, as Pryde shot back up onto the grass and rejoined the chase. Rogue paced along silently, like a hunter watching her prey, shadowing the X-Men and the lone Brotherhood member.

She became slightly distracted. _Hey, for such a boring son of a bitch Summers is kickin' ass, _she thought with a silly little smirk on her face, her head on an angle. _Just look at that. He is somethin' else._

... Oh GOD, what am Ah sayin'? It's probably just his memories all actin' up in mah head. He's probably the most conceited pissant ever to walk th' halls'a Bayville High, to think that about himself.

She started to walk down the length of the field, breaking into a jog. Rogue could now be easily seen, except that none of the X-Men were looking her way. _He would think he kicks ass, too. What a loser._

Todd had been blasted down from a tree. Grey snatched the device from him telekinetically. As Todd tried to escape, Evan Daniels fired what looked like a bony projectile from his arm, pinning the Brotherhood boy to the tree trunk.

"Why don't you stick around for a while?" Daniels asked in a low voice. He stood back so that Summers could move forward.

Kneeling beside Todd, Summers demanded, "Now, tell us what you did to Kurt!"

Todd was panicking. He really wasn't great under pressure. "I didn't do anything!"

Rogue rolled her eyes. _This has gone far enough, _Rogue thought impatiently. "He didn't!" she yelled from down the field. As the X-Men turned as one to look at her, she fought the urge to ready herself visibly for a fight. "_Ah_ did. If ya'll wanna find Blue Boy, you better let 'im go."

The X-Men looked to Summers.

"Go on," she called. "Let Toad go, or Ah'll split. Ah'm a much faster runner than he is, Ah'll tell ya."

"... Do it," Summers said finally.

Daniels yanked the bone spike out of the tree and lobbed it into the bushes. "Get outta here, Tolensky," he growled.

Todd looked dubious about leaving Rogue surrounded by X-Men.

"Go on, Todd," she said harshly. "Ah can handle mahself."

Todd didn't need to be told twice. He ran for it. Or hopped, if you want to get technical about it.

"Come here, Rogue," called Jean Grey. "We let him go. Now it's time to talk."

Rogue walked over as calmly as she could and folded her arms. "That dealie you got there? It fried your guy. Blew him to kingdom come."

Pryde looked nothing short of horrified. "You didn't kill him, did you?" She had huge blue eyes with long lashes that were, Rogue noted with annoyance, rather pretty. Kitty Pryde had this weird aura of wide-eyed innocence and gentleness. _Ah doubt that little kid's hit anybody in her whole life, _Rogue thought with contempt.

"_No,_" said Rogue witheringly, trying to seem as if she believed that herself. "Ah was behind the Science block and Ah smelled sulphur down in the school basement. Ah followed the smell and found Wagner. He set off a bunch of explosives by accident. It was- some kinda lab."

"A lab? Under the school?" Daniels asked, raising his eyebrows. _Grey an' Pryde seem a little appearance-obsessed. Ah wonder why they haven't attacked this boy with a pair'a tweezers yet._

"That's what Ah said, porcupine. Ya don't need me to use sock puppets or anythin', do ya?"

"There's no need to be so rude," said Grey, frowning. "What else happened?"

Rogue heaved a massive sigh. "So then your boy and Ah start fightin' over this machine Ah found, th' only thing that survived the blast. One thing led to another, he jolted me and it vaporised the poor bastard."

"Can you _not_?" asked Pryde, who looked rather wretched.

Summers seemed to be doing some deep thinking. "Show us."

"Excuse me?"

"Show us where you found the lab. You're in this as much as we are now."

"You happen to be extremely outnumbered," sniffed Pryde. "I suggest you co-operate."

Rogue tried not to consider the fact that a group of people surrounded her who, not that long ago, had tried to kill her. _Ah can take 'em all out if Ah want. Ah won't let 'em scare me, it won't do a bit of good. _Witheringly, Rogue said, "Stop try'n'a sound intelligent, Pryde. It doesn't suit ya. C'mon, then." Rogue beckoned the X-Men and they set off for the scene of the crime.

There were about a million things Rogue wanted to say, including but not limited to, 'You guys actually go outdoors in those uniforms?' She kept her eyes on the place she wanted to get to, and none of the little party spoke until they had descended the stairs.

"This is where it happened," Rogue said quietly as they arrived in the underground room.

Summers stooped to the floor, sifting some dirt there with his fingers. He looked up and glared at Rogue. ... At least, it looked like he was glaring at her.

Pointing at her, he snarled, "If you've hurt him, I'm gonna-"

_Oh, two can play that game. _"You start threatenin' me and you're never gonna find your friend!" Rogue snapped, getting in his face.

They were standing pretty close for a second there, with Rogue's heart beating and her mind completely taken up with thoughts of how much of a self-righteous idiot he was. As much as she disliked him, Rogue couldn't help the next thought that crossed her mind.

_Now, this sure ain't boring. Ah could get used to this._

Grey stepped between them. Rogue almost felt a little sore about it. She'd been having fun. "Whoa, take it easy, Cyclops," Grey said warningly.

"Yo, guys!" called Pryde from the corner. Everyone turned to look in her direction. "We've been running a diagnostic on this thing."

Daniels made a small astonished noise. "Can you believe it? It uses CPM. I mean, talk about retro, man," he chimed in.

Nodding effusively, Pryde continued, "It's putting out some kind of like, steady low power pulse wave that just seems to disappear into thin air."

_Look at me, Ah'm soup-for-brains Pryde. Like, check out mah like, nervous habit. Ah can't, like, stop, like, sayin' the word 'like', like, every like, second, _Rogue mimicked silently.

Summers said what everyone else was thinking. "And that means what exactly?"

"Well, we figure that the pulse has trapped the 'Crawler in some other dimension," Daniels announced importantly.

_Another dimension? Gimme a break. Ah don't believe in that baloney, _Rogue thought nastily. _Yet... here Ah am, standin' around with a group that includes but ain't limited to a girl who can walk through walls and a girl who can read minds._

Summers strode forward, his finger on the fire button on his visor. "'K, so let's trash this thing." He set it on a table and proclaimed, "Everyone stand back, I'm gonna use full power. This could get messy."

_Please, no more suspense, it's killin' me. Get _over _yourself, Summers._

Pryde (who had walked over to Grey) said more or less what Rogue was thinking, "Um, you know, I could just like, phase through the gizmo and like, quietly short it out."

Summers looked at her like she'd just suggested he should wear a Hawaiian shirt to school, dump a vat of creamed corn over his head and loudly declare his love for Principal Darkholme.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Pryde giggled. "Right. Forget I mentioned it." She stage-whispered to Grey, "Like, what is it with guys and explosions anyway?"

Grey nodded sagely. Her words of wisdom on the subject? "Hmmph."

"This'll- um, this'll bring the blue guy back, right?" asked Rogue roughly, wringing her hands nonetheless. _Damn Irene and her damn contagious nervous habits, _Rogue thought in annoyance. _If it weren't for her Ah wouldn't have any nervous habits. _As Rogue thought this, she began compulsively playing with her hair.

__

... Oh. Well. That's a new one. Crap. And here Ah thought Ah was perfect, Rogue thought.

"Sure," said Summers. "I'm confident that it will."

"Oh, that makes me feel _so _much better," Rogue thought aloud. Pryde actually snickered, and Daniels stifled a laugh. Grey and Summers looked outraged, though.

"I suppose it doesn't matter one way or another to you," Summers said snottily. "It's just one less of us to worry about. What did we ever do to you anyway?"

Rogue made an indignant noise and opened her mouth to start yelling at Summers when-

Well, for starters, there was a disturbance in the air.

Kurt Wagner appeared for a second. For that one second he stood before them, large as life, a little fuzzy around the edges but essentially OK. "Reset. Don't-" he said frantically, and as quickly as he had appeared he was gone.

There was an amazed silence.

"Uh... you guys saw that, right?" said Summers intelligently.

Rogue felt as if a huge weight in the pit of her stomach shifted. "He's still alive," she whispered hoarsely. If she was alone she might have burst into tears. Maybe. But people surrounded her, enemies, and so she said nothing more.

Grey frowned. "_What_ was he saying?"

Pryde shrugged vaguely.

Daniels groaned at the ignorance of his brethren. "He said, 'Reset. Don't.' Y'know, _don't _reset it? He wants you to blow it up. Do it!"

Pryde, who was leaning against Grey, rolled her pretty blue eyes. "I swear these guys are like, obsessed." Grey nodded.

Summers rubbed his chin. "Uh, it sounded more like a warning to me."

Daniels snorted. "A warning? From the goof-man himself? Nah, come on! Shred that sucker."

"Ah gotta agree," Rogue said suddenly. "If it'll bring him back, then-"

"No. Nightcrawler's a joker, but even _he_ knows when it's time to get serious."

"You serious?" asked Pryde, raising an eyebrow.

Summers waved a hand vaguely. "Look, if he wanted to blow up the projector, why didn't he just say, 'Don't reset.' instead of 'Reset.' then 'Don't'? I think he _wants_ us to reset this thing."

_If he obliterates Wagner after everythin' Ah've been through, Ah swear Ah'll kick his ass from here to Tokyo, _thought Rogue guardedly.

Summers was looking for a reset button. "Uh... intensity settings, power regulators, uh, beam width... restart!"

_Geez, Ah shoulda brought mah notebook. How many times has he said 'uh' without mah notin' it down?_ Rogue joked silently. _... Ah hope this works. For all of our sakes._

He pressed the button. That was when things got a little... weird.

There was a kind of multicoloured explosion in midair above their heads, which formed a kind of hole in the scenery. It shone with a blinding blue light. Rogue could barely see anything-

Except for Kurt Wagner and another figure, standing amazed in the midst of the portal. _He's alive, _she thought, and almost died from relief.

"C'mon, teleport through!" bellowed Summers.

The shadowy forms of Wagner and the mysterious person conversed for a few seconds. Rogue was becoming scared. _Oh God, what's happenin'? Why isn't he comin'?_

"What's the matter? Let's go!" Summers called nervously.

The portal grew ever smaller. _Please come. Please, please, please-_

A black cloud of smoke on the other side of the portal announced Wagner and the mystery guy making a hasty exit from that part of the dimension. Rogue's jaw dropped.

"What are they doing?" cried Daniels, aghast.

"I don't know, but I hope they hustle!" replied Summers.

_This cannot get any weirder or any worse, _thought Rogue in something like despair.

Rogue heard a commotion and turned her head, to see the Brotherhood coming down the stairs.

_OK. Now, that was givin' the situation _way _too much credit, _Rogue sighed inwardly.

"... and they still got that vap' ray I was tellin' you about!" crowed Todd, and Rogue felt like kicking something. Or someone, she wasn't choosy.

Gruffly, Lance called, "Rogue, Mystique sent us to find you. So, you with us, or them?"

Summers gaped. "_Mystique? _You're workin' for her?"

_Unbelievable. This is the weirdest situation Ah've ever been in, and Summers still finds a way to get up my nose._

... Ah can't deal with this any more, she thought suddenly. _Wagner's alive, Ah didn't kill him an' that's all Ah need to know. Ah gotta get mahself outta here._

She poked him hard. "Hey, Summers. You got your friends, Ah got mine, but this ain't mah fight. Ah'm outta here."

And Rogue left, with as much dignity as she could, and she had never felt so relieved to emerge into the cool evening air.

It was growing dark. She felt she ought to wait around for the Brotherhood boys as a show of goodwill, although truthfully she didn't care who won the inevitable fight. It all seemed so pointless.

The school was a different place at night. It grew dark and shadowy, and kind of creepy really. She sat on top of a picnic table in the quad after she retrieved her backpack from under the tree. Rogue was listening to the distant sounds of the fight. Rogue shivered, not entirely from the cold, and prayed she'd just get to go home soon.

Rogue blinked as she heard a rather different sound emanate from the underground room- that of a car horn beeping, and a screech of brakes. _Now, _that's_ not a mutant noise, _she thought, suppressing a smirk.

Eventually, the sounds of the fight petered out, and she heard the clatter of approaching feet. The Brotherhood. For some reason, Rogue slipped off the picnic table, ran and hid.

They tramped straight past her hiding place behind a tree, grumbling and nursing various wounds. _Oh, yeah, don't call out for me after Ah waited for ya an' all, _Rogue thought sarcastically, conveniently forgetting the fact that she was hiding from them. She crouched in the undergrowth with her back to the tree, looking up through the branches of the other trees into the sky. It only seemed like she exhaled when she heard Lance's Jeep leave the parking lot.

_God, today's been a bitch. And Ah just bet Mystique'll be on mah case for skippin' out on that fight with the X-Geeks, _Rogue thought tiredly.

She stood up, yawning and stretching, but froze and crouched down again when she heard a line of people leaving the school basement. It was the X-Men, plus one, and she stared after them with something close to awe.

_Wagner's alive. They all are. Ah have nothin' to worry about now. _She stood up again, rolling her neck and hearing several snapping noises.

... _Ah must be in denial or somethin'. There ain't a day in mah life when Ah don't worry about somethin' or other,_ Rogue mused. With a deep sigh, she began to walk home.

It took a long while, walking under the stars. She felt heavy.

As Rogue approached the Brotherhood Boarding House, she almost felt in the mood for the boys to try and beat her up again. _Ah just may snap, and Ah feel like chuckin' a psycho on the boys. If they hadn't rocked up everythin' would've worked itself out much quicker. Fuckin' idiots..._

When she walked through the door, it was not the boys who accosted her, but Mystique, whose eyes radiated pure fury. "Rogue Adler, where were you?" barked Mystique. "You ran out on your team before a battle with the X-Men!"

Rogue stared at her, her grey-green eyes bored, almost expressionless. She felt like she couldn't be bothered. The sounds of a Western movie were blaring from the living room, and she could hear Fred and Todd cheering. _They would. Me, Ah can't stand Westerns._

"Don't stare at me in that impertinent way. Get up to your room and stay there, we're going to talk this through later," Mystique snapped.

Rogue began to walk heavily up the stairs. Suddenly a rage like no other took her, and without warning she turned around and yelled at Mystique, "Yeah, Ah am unhurt and no, Ah didn't walk through the bad neighbourhood! Yeah, Wagner is OK and no, Ah don't think the vaporisin' doohickey survived the fight. And yeah, Ah did have a completely horrible day and- and _no, _you obviously don't give a _shit_ about anythin' other than me removin' mahself from some STUPID brawl with the Loser Brigade."

"Don't take that tone with me," said Mystique quietly.

"You're the crappiest leader Ah've ever _seen._ You don't care about nothin' or nobody, so y'know what? _Fuck. You._" Rogue shrieked these words, slightly hysterical, and fled up the stairs. She rushed into her room and slammed the door so hard the foundations of the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House seemed to shake. Dust cascaded down from the ceiling of her room.

Rogue flung herself down on her bed, her heart beating a wild rhythm against her ribs. She let out a long shuddering breath and flopped over onto her stomach.

_Ah haven't had a good jam session in awhile, _she thought ruefully._ Might help sort some of what Ah'm feelin' out._ She removed her guitar from its case, kicked off her boots, peeled off her tights and hauled her baggy green top over her head. Tossing her clothes into a corner of the room, she sat on her bedspread with her back to the wall and began to play.

It felt good just to sit and strum at her guitar, to lose herself in the tunes she knew so well. It felt good to sit there in just the bare minimum of clothes. Both of these were things she rarely did any more, even when she was alone.

Someone knocking on the door jolted her out of her trance. "Rogue?" called Lance.

"No."

"Can I come in?"

"_No._"

He came in anyway.

"Heard what ya said to Mystique," he said, without preamble. "You really told her off."

"Ah just kinda flipped. And Ah might just flip again if you remain in mah room, so piss _off,_ Alvers."

He was staring at her. "What?" she demanded.

"I didn't know you were that pale all over."

Hugging herself tightly, she snapped, "Did ya honestly think that mah skin was like, puce or somethin' underneath mah clothes? Idiot. Ya got any more witty observations, or are ya gonna leave?"

...

"I didn't know you played the guitar," he said.

Rogue was exasperated. "What did ya _think _Ah was carryin' in mah guitar case the day Ah came here? A grand piano? Bagpipes, maybe? And what did ya think all those guitar noises were, comin' outta mah room, a CD?"

Lance shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"Ah'm hardly about to record an album. Ah can't play for shit."

"Well, who wants to play for shit? I would've thought you'd wanna play for money," retorted Lance.

Rogue looked at Lance.

Lance looked at Rogue.

"Piss off, Alvers," she said, returning to strumming at her guitar.

"Yes'm," he sneered, and left.

_OK, since when did that boy develop a sense of humour?_ thought Rogue irritably. She struck a hard chord on her guitar.

"Rogue?" It was Mystique.

"No."

"Let me in, now."

"_No._" Rogue hesitated, and sighed. "Hang on a sec."

She got up from the bed and headed over to the door. Opening it, she took a huge step back. "Don't you brush against me or nothin', hear? Ah'm not dressed properly. Ah'm mad at ya, Ah don't want none'a your memories in mah head. Even if it did mean Ah'd get to scare the crap outta the boys by turnin' into the Ghost'a Christmas Future and creepin' up on 'em in the dead'a th' night."

Mystique showed herself in and shut the door behind her. Rogue did not ask her to sit down, and so Mystique did not take a seat.

"Why are you mad at me, Rogue?" she asked patiently.

Rogue scowled, then felt her face soften. "Ah dunno. Ah'm just pissed, Ah had a long, gruellin', traumatisin' sorta day and... aw, forget it. Let's just call it that time'a the month and leave it at that, huh?"

Mystique laughed softly and shook her head. "I'm concerned about you. First you actually help the X-Men in battle, then when the opportunity arises to aid your own team you leave."

"Ah'm sorry, all right?" Rogue asked bitchily.

"You're part of the Brotherhood, Rogue. This is the team you chose."

"Unlikely! This is the team you recruited me into when Ah was blind and deaf with pain!" snapped Rogue, before she could stop herself.

Mystique raised an eyebrow.

"... Sorry," said Rogue gruffly.

"As strange as things feel for you at the moment, Rogue, you're a valued member of this team. We are a part of who you are, and soon you will need to prove your allegiance."

"Ah thought the only thing Ah was meant to pledge allegiance to was the stars 'n' stripes," quipped Rogue.

"Don't joke, Rogue. This is serious." Mystique frowned. "We need you for our team. _I _need you, all right?"

For a moment there, it didn't sound as if Mystique was talking about the team.

"... It's good to know that, ma'am," Rogue said finally. "Ah promise, when the time comes... Ah won't let ya down."

Mystique grinned, her fangs showing. "Good girl. Make sure you get to bed at a reasonable hour, Rogue. I'll see you in the morning."

"G'night," Rogue called.

"Goodnight, dear," Mystique called over her shoulder.

As Rogue changed into her pyjamas later on, she thought, _Mystique's not really so bad. At least she makes me feel like Ah'm needed. And she doesn't sugarcoat nothin'- like, she treats me like an adult. Apart from all that 'good girl' stuff._

Rogue slipped into her bed and, without really thinking about it, grabbed her notebook from her backpack beside her bed. There were some things she needed to get out.

_Things are the same, and yet not. _[Rogue wrote]_ Summers is a dick, and at least Wagner is alive. I suppose I'd better let you in on everything important that happened today._

Had a whole load of bother today with Pryde, Grey, Wagner, Daniels and Summers. It all started with me kind of vaporising Wagner. Somewhere around the middle it had this weird moment with me and Scott staring glaring into each other's eyes faces. It was like one of those weird 'Are we gonna kiss or what?' moments you have when you get that close to somebody who's cute

(Rogue frowned and erased that last word. She also erased her next choice, which was _not bad-looking. _Finally, she settled for writing _somebody who's a guy._)

I could practically see

(Here, she wrote _his eyes. I wonder what colour they are. _She crossed this out furiously.)

up his nose, where the very top of that stick he's got lodged up his ass all the way up to his brain is kinda visible, ha ha.

'Course, Scott barely qualifies as a guy. So what if he's older and taller, and I happen to like older, taller guys? There are plenty of older, taller guys around, but that doesn't mean I'm going to throw myself at every one of them. The idea of throwing myself at Scott makes me want to be violently ill.

And like I could do it anyway. Even without my powers. I'm not that kind of person. Still, it would've been nice to feel what it's like to kiss someone. I kind of wish I'd done it before everything happened.

It's not like I think about it all the time or anything. It's just that kissing- whether it's the Kiss of Death or whatever- comes up a lot in the songs I write, and it would've been nice to know what I was talking about.

But I'm not bitter. No way. Only some vapid loser like the Ditz would spend her life moping because she can't touch people. What's so great about touching anyway? I have more important things to do with my time.

For awhile today I thought I killed someone. I've never felt that way before- so scared and guilty. I never want to feel that way again. The way Mystique talks sometimes, things are gonna get really hairy if anyone ever finds out about mutants. I think she expects us to defend ourselves. Sure, if anyone really got on my case I'd give them a shove, tell 'em to beat it. I might even use my powers on them. But I will never feel like that again. I will never kill anybody.

Never again.

As Rogue read over her writing, she noticed a disturbing pattern. She had called Summers by his first name a total of three times. Three times too many.

Oh, what the hell. Rogue reasoned, _Hey, if his teammates get to call him by his first name, Ah should too. What do they think, that Ah'm some lowly serf who's gotta call them by their surnames? Lame! Ah'll call him what Ah wanna, when Ah wanna, understand?_

... Ah can't believe his name is Scott. What a gyp for the rest of the universe! He's too much of a ragin' geek to have a nice name like that.

Rogue jumped as Todd yelled from outside. "Shut your light off!"

"Go to hell," Rogue responded automatically. It was late, though, so she turned off her light, turned over and went to sleep.

She had strange dreams that night. No residual memories, just her own dreams. She had forgotten what it was like to do that. Rogue dreamed...

__

There were dark stairways down into the ground, red lasers and vast plains of dirt and gravel stretching away into the distance to meet the skies of rolling black clouds. And a boy, lying sleeping on the ground. When she ran to him, she recognised him.

Or she barely did. No shades. No visor either. "No powers," she murmured to herself as she hastily removed her glove and touched his cheek lightly. He had nice skin for a boy.

"Hey," she said, speaking with more warmth that she ever did. "Wake up." She didn't smile. She never smiled. Rogue's eyes were smiling, though.

He didn't waken right away. Rogue sat by him, waiting for him to open his eyes. Calmly, she observed that the ground had started to shake, that the dark clouds blotted out any part of the sky, and a chilly wind had started to blast them.

He was awake then, and he put a hand on her shoulder. Neither ran, just waited. Rogue felt some weird, fluid feeling growing in her chest, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

It was happiness. Happiness at the fact that he was still there with her, waiting for the sky to fall.

When she woke up the next morning, the first words out of her mouth would be, "Ew. What a horrible nightmare. Sharin' mah last moments on earth with that prick Summers? Barf."

She would believe it. While she slept, however, while she dreamed and enjoyed the visions she played a part in, Rogue knew.

It was no nightmare.

- - -

DISCLAIMER: _X-Men: Evolution _belongs to Stan Lee, the WB, Marvel Comics, whoever you like. Not me. If it belonged to me, I would have had Kurt change out of his uniform every once in a while.

NOTES: Whoa, did Rogue have a Teenage Girl Moment with Mystique near the end or _what_? It's good to get a new chapter up. This is about the only _X-Men: Evolution_ thing I can write at the moment. I have so many ideas for one-shots and multi-chaptered fics, but this seems to be the only thing I can finish. Probably because it's based on the series itself. I'm so unimaginative. _Le sigh._

Now, everyone, something you've got to remember about this fic is that I'm writing it based on my own observations (written in my diary, which is basically the Chronicles of One Girl's Obsession With _XME_), footage from fan videos, transcripts and screencaps. That might sound like a lot, but trust me, I have to bluff through practically the whole thing. The only episodes I have on video are _Growing Pains, Power Surge, Bada-Bing Bada-Boom _and _Fun and Games._ Remember that if mistakes relating to the way characters say things or who people are standing next to crop up. My big sister hates me downloading fan videos, but I kinda _need _them. They're a tiny bit addictive, even if I wasn't writing a big _XME _fic.

Question for you, **Ivan Alias**,and anyone else who's wondering. How do you know that Mystique is aware of exactly who Kurt Wagner is? At this point she might think he's some random German mutant Professor X picked up. She hasn't seen him with his inducer off, has she? Besides, even if she is aware of who he is, you've gotta remember that Mystique is just about the best actress you'll ever see. She's so good at masking her emotions you never know quite what she's thinking or feeling.

I'm glad people seemed to like Katy- or rather, "Look, someone in peril!" I named her after Katy Carr in the old-timey book _What Katy Did, _seeing as Dorothy has the same name as someone else from an old-timey book with a female main character.

The bit where Rogue is writing in her notebook and keeps crossing things out? In the original Word document version of this chapter, there were strikethroughs on that bit. It looked a lot more effective. Hmmph. Am rather pissed, really, about that.

Gotta go. See ya'll later. : )


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